


Entropy

by StarCrossedRebel



Category: star wars the last jedi
Genre: AnnoyedHux, Enemies to Lovers, JealousRen, M/M, Smut, Snark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-06 01:23:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 25,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15183647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarCrossedRebel/pseuds/StarCrossedRebel
Summary: Takes place post TLJ. Hux is trying to garner support and secure funds for the First Order after the destruction of Starkiller base and the murder of Snoke. This means that Ren, as the new Supreme Leader, has to attend frivolous galas with Hux to send a message of strength and unity to the galaxy. Ren hates the galas. Even more, he hates Hux. Or is it something else he feels when he sees Hux shamelessly flirting with patrons?





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is my first attempt at writing a fic, so please bear with me. I absolutely adore the idea of Hux and Kylo together, and I just couldn't resist the temptation of writing this story about them. I'm not sure how many chapters there are going to be yet, but I plan for a longish story. There will be smut eventually, just not yet. Cheers!

Ren tugged impatiently at the collar around his throat, trying to adjust the infuriating garment. It was too tight. The starched fabric dug into the tender skin around his neck, chafing it. Memories of attending dinner parties with his mother as a young boy flashed through his mind. She had always forced Ren — Ben — into wearing uncomfortable suits.

  
He didn’t understand then, and still didn’t understand now, why it was so important that he wear the karking thing. Hux had insisted upon it, though, saying that his robes were inappropriate for the event they were attending. Though the words he used to describe his robes at the time were a bit more expletive. Something along the lines of filthy, crinking, romanticized pajama suit. Hux sounded so much like his — Ben’s — mother that it was scary at times. And strangely humorous. He’d have to remember to tell Hux that he sounds like an old woman later.

Ren watched out of the corner of his eye as a young woman in a black satin gown sidled closer to him. She and her ridiculously painted face had been hovering for the better part of an hour, either trying to escape the crowd or trying to work up the courage to speak to Ren. Ren really hoped it was the former; he wasn’t good at conversing with strangers unless he was interrogating them. And that usually warranted a great deal of pain and screaming. He couldn’t imagine that ripping into a young woman’s mind and prying her darkest secrets from it was very good social edicate. Hux would have an aneurysm if he did such a thing.

Ren glared at the approaching woman, hoping it would be enough to explain to her that approaching Kylo Ren, the most powerful force user in the galaxy, the Supreme Leader, was a very bad idea. She wilted like a cut flower, her shoulders slumping and her eyes falling to the floor. She scurried off through the crowd, back to a group of six other girls. The moment she arrived they leaned their heads together and began whispering furiously. Every so often, one of them would chance a quick look at Ren.

Why did he have to be here again? Hux was the one in charge of the treasury department. Ren shouldn’t need to attend anything as frivolous as a ball, especially not on an Outer Rim planet. He didn’t need to parade around with these people, playing nice. If they didn’t give the First Order what they wanted, Ren would simply kill them.

Hux’s admonishing voice played in his head. 'Only fools are won over by brute strength, Ren, and unlike you, the rest of the galaxy is rather cunning. If you want to rule the galaxy you need to see both the big picture and every minute detail within that picture. Wars are won by tact, not force. '

Ren huffed and crossed his arms, leaning his shoulder against one of the stone pillars that held up the ceiling of the ballroom he was currently trapped in. His dark eyes roved over the cavernous room, taking in the grandois architecture and decorations. The ballroom itself was circular in shape and topped with a massive glass dome. It was well after sunset; blackness pressed against the glass. Strings of tiny white lights had been strung from the apex of the dome to the outermost walls, mimicking the night sky. Down below, gilded walls set with high windows encased a floor filled with glass tables and hoards of mingling people.

The crowd was certainly a diverse bunch. Ren watched as a female Twi'lek conversed with a male Khommite, flutes of champagne bubbling in both their hands. A few feet away a group of Ithorians appeared to be in a rather heated discussion. All wealthy potential First Order supporters and patrons were invited to the gala.

Everyone was dressed in their best finery, especially the young women present, no doubt hoping to catch the eye of the new Supreme Leader. Their bleached teeth and expensive jewels flashed in the white light. Ren barely spared them a glance, his eyes searching for that infuriating shock of ginger hair.

Ren’s eyes snagged on Hux’s form. He had never seen Hux out of uniform before, but tonight he was wearing a snow white suit with a red lapel tucked into his pocket. The suit didn’t look as ridiculous as Ren thought it would on him. In fact, Hux looked rather handsome. As rigidly composed as ever, but somehow softer around the edges.

Hux had a lazy smile on his face, completely at ease in his element. Charming people out of their wits was something of a hobby for Hux, especially when it came to money or preserving his life. He was currently talking to a young man with dark hair and an arrogant looking face. Hux laughed loudly at something the man said. Said man looked ridiculously pleased with himself and touched Hux’s hand lightly.

Kylo frowned, the movement pulling at the scar that split his face apart. Since when did Hux allow people to touch him in such a casual manner? And what had the boy said that made Hux laugh like that? The lilting sound, light and carefree as tinkling bells, echoed through his head. He’d only ever heard Hux angry; the only laughter he'd ever directed at Ren was harsh and mocking. Ren took note of the flute of champagne in Hux’s hand and prodded his mind gently, trying to figure out just how much the General had drunk. It was only his first glass. Certainly not enough to get the General drunk. Ren had seen him down entire bottles of Corellian whiskey without so much as a hiccup.

Ren watched as the boy’s hand trailed from Hux’s hand to his elbow, caressing it lightly. Kylo’s frown deepened, something dark blooming in his chest and seeping into his bloodstream. He could feel the dark side of the force collecting around him in a thick cloud, making it hard to think. He breathed harshly through his nose, debating the merits of murdering whoever the arrogant boy was. He could do it quietly. Stop the boy’s heart. No one would be able to link it back to him. Except for Hux, of course. Hux would figure it out in a matter of seconds, and then Ren would probably have to ward off his own murder.

The boy leaned in close to Hux and whispered something in his ear. Hux’s smile widened and he nodded, whispering something back in return. Something snapped in Ren, releasing a wave of anger.

Ren eyed the flute of champagne in the boy’s unoccupied hand — was he even old enough to drink? — and a new idea sparked in his mind. With almost no effort at all, he sent a small burst of energy through the room. The sound of shattering glass cut through the ambiance of voices. Ren watched in satisfaction as the boy gave an undignified yelped as his flute exploded in his hand, showering him in glass and champagne. Hux took an abrupt step back, trying to escape the mess. His eyebrows shot up in what was either surprise or confusion.

  
Almost immediately, Ren saw Hux working it out in his head. Saw the way his mouth set in an annoyed line and the way his jaw clenched as his eyes moved over the room, searching. Ren tried to slink back into the shadows, but it was too late. Hux’s eyes landed on him, pinning him to the spot with an icy glare.

Hux murmured something to the boy before turning on his heel and making his way through the crowd. Ren figited as Hux made his slow approach, wondering if he maybe made a mistake by not bringing any guards with him. He was the most powerful force user in the galaxy, but he wondered how much it would be of use to him against an angry Hux. He guessed he was about to find out.

“Supreme Leader,” Hux greeted through clenched teeth when he finally reached Ren. “Can I help you with something?'

Ren scrambled for an answer. He didn’t actually want to see Hux, only wanted him to keep a distance from that annoying boy. Now that Ren thought about it, he should have just invaded the boy’s mind and willed him to end the conversation. Now he had to come up with an excuse to explain his behavior. “I'm tired,” Ren said. “I wish to retire to my rooms.”

Hux raised an eyebrow. “And you require my assistance for this? Want me to tuck you in? Read you a bedtime story and kiss you goodnight?”

An image of the General’s lips on his flashed through Ren’s mind, soft and warm and pliant beneath his. It caused a small ache to pierce his chest.

Ren clamped down on the thought and willed it away. Kissing Hux? What in karking hell was he thinking? “You should retire as well,” Ren said. “I know for a fact you haven’t slept in 72 hours, and if negotiations are to go well, I need my General to be in top shape.”

Hux flashed Ren a look. “Thank you for your concern, Supreme Leader, but I assure you I’m fine. Or at least I was, until you interrupted. It was nice to have some intelligent company for once, especially after being trapped in a shuttle with you for so long. Conversing with the Prince was more refreshing than a good night's sleep could ever be.”

Ren felt his eye twitch. “Yes, I’m sure someone taking an interest in you must be very refreshing,” he said. “I can’t imagine very many people are into arrogant, stubborn, homicidal maniacs with a cat fetish.”

Hux opened his mouth to retort but then seemed to think better of it. He was doing that a lot lately: holding his tongue. The old Hux would have bitten back with a snappy remark of his own. Unleashed an arsenal of well picked words designed to cut Ren as deep as possible. Snoke wasn’t there to keep Ren from killing him anymore though, so Hux had to be more careful with what he said. “ I'll inform everyone of your departure and make the appropriate excuses,” Hux said. “I'm sure as Supreme Leader you have many important tasks to attend to and are not simply going to sit in your room in the dark and talk to your dead grandfather’s mask.”

Ah. Not so much of a coward after all.

“At least I have more important tasks to attend to than flirting,” Ren said.

Hux narrowed his eyes. “That,” Hux said, pointing at the boy with the dark hair and arrogant face, “is the Prince of Athulla. I am trying to secure funds for the First Oder, which we, in case you haven’t realized, are in dire need of. And since our Supreme Leader hasn't taken the initiative to achieve such aims, it falls to me.”

“And I see that you're willing to stoop to any low to get what you want, even if it means whoring yourself out like a common prostitute,” Ren said.

The remark didn’t get the reaction Ren was hoping for. He was expecting Hux to flush that brilliant shade of crimson he often did when he got angry. He wanted to see Hux’s hands tremble and clench in suppressed rage. Wanted to have him hiss back a vulgar retort. No one tore down Hux’s polished and proper exterior as well as Ren. And no one enjoyed seeing the General in a deranged state more than Ren. Unfortunately for him, Hux simply cocked his head to the side and gave a small smirk.  
“Of course I'm willing to go to any lengths to ensure the First Order’s success,” Hux said. “It certainly wouldn’t be the first time I've used such tactics to achieve my aims. I'm skilled in many areas of… persuasion, not that you’ll ever get to know them. Good night now, Supreme Leader. I hope you sleep well. Though I can't imagine you'll be as refreshed as I in the morning.”

With that, Hux allowed himself a satisfied smirk before turning on his heal and weaving his way through the crowd, back to the karking boy — prince — whatever the kark he was. Ren sneered at Hux’s back, a fresh wave of murderous intent pulsing through him as he watched him place a hand on the prince’s shoulder and lean in to whisper in his ear. Both men laughed at whatever it was Hux said.

Ren glowered at the pair for a moment longer before he stalked out of the room, a snarl forming on his face as he tugged at the starched collar. The people around him scurried out of his way, wearily watching as he stormed by. Too bad for Ren. He was in the mood to kill something. An unaware guest standing in his way would have provided the perfect opportunity, Hux’s rage be damned.

Hux. That karking, pompous ass.

Hux could go to bed with whomever he liked. It was none of Ren’s concern. And if Hux’s sleeping around helped secure funds for the First Order, all the better. Ren was acting insane. He could admit that he wasn’t the most level headed person, but this was ridiculous. Why should he care if Hux sleeps with another man? Hux meant nothing to Ren. He was simply convenient to keep around. A pawn at his disposal. A means to an end. And when he outlived his usefulness, Ren would kill him. There was nothing more to their relationship.

But even whilst Ren thought this, his chest twinged with pain. What in Palpatine's name was wrong with him? Maybe he was coming down with some backwater planet disease. Or maybe Hux was vying to be Supreme Leader and had slipped Ren a poison. He wouldn’t put it past the man. He should get checked out by a medical droid, just to be sure.

It was going to be a long week.


	2. Chapter Two

Rem jammed his thumb into the elevator’s call button. The doors swished open a few seconds later and he marched inside, requesting the 100th floor to the penthouse he and Hux were staying in. 

Ren watched through the elevator’s curved glass wall as he glided up the side of the building. Athulla was a warm and humid planet, accommodating vast swaths of rainforest. Trees with trunks as thick as space shuttles and as tall as star destroyers flashed by in a green blur. The elevator popped through the dark cloud cover and came to a smooth stop. There was a slight pause before the polished doors parted, revealing the top floor. 

The penthouse was extravagant, pointlessly so. Even though he was the Supreme Leader, Ren was unaccustomed to luxury. He had practically lived as a monk for most of his life.

The outer walls of the penthouse were made of glass, offering a radiant view of the night sky. Stars winked in and out of existence. The main living room was covered in plush, white carpet. Two leather couches faced each other, separated by a glass coffee table. An electric fireplace flickered in the background. A mini bar lit by muted violet lights took up an entire wall. 

Ren stomped into the room, pulling off the abysmal suit and dropping articles of clothing on the floor. Hux would chastise him for the mess later, but right now he couldn’t care less. His body felt hot all over; he could feel his blood rushing through his veins. His hands were shaking. He didn’t stop stripping until he was in nothing more than a pair of black boxers. He sighed in relief as the cool air kissed his skin.

In the corner of the main living room was a First Order medical droid. Its oblong head was attached to a metal, skirt like body. Six insect like arms rested at its side. It wasn’t impressive looking — the droid didn’t reach higher than Ren’s hip — but it was state of the art First Order technology. 

Ren keyed in the droid’s activation code and stepped back as it shuddered to life. 

“Good evening,” the droid said in a soothing female voice. “My name is 2-1B, your personal health care unit. How can I be of assistance?” 

“Do a general diagnosis,” Ren said.

Ren sat at the edge of one of the leather couches as the droid flashed a light in his eyes, stuck a metallic thermometer in his throat, and took his vitals. A beam of blue light from where the droid’s eyes should have been scanned up and down his body. The faint sound of whirring machinery filled the room.

“According to my data, there is nothing wrong with you,” the droid finally said. “ I did detect increased levels of dopamine, oxytocin, and cortisol in your bloodstream, but it is nothing to worry about. They are harmless chemicals that will dissipate on their own in a matter of hours.” 

Ren stared at the droid, his eyebrows drawn together. “That can’t be right. I am experiencing severe pain in my chest. Run the diagnosis again.”

The droid ticked as it processed Ren’s command. The beam of blue light reappeared as the droid scanned Ren’s chest. 

“I detect to no heart anomalies,” the droid said. “Everything appears to be in perfect working order.”

That couldn’t be right. Ren rubbed a fist over his chest, trying to alleviate the ache. Usually pain was a great source of power for him, a link to the dark side, but it was unbearable right now. It felt like a star had imploded in his chest. He could hardly concentrate through the pain.

The droid must have been faulty. Leave it to Hux to provide Ren with a defective medical droid. Probably hoped it would malfunction and “accidently” pulverize Ren. 

“Dismissed,” Ren told the droid.

The droid whizzed back into the corner and powered down. Ren sighed and scrubbed his hands down his face. Maybe exhaustion was getting the better of him. He hadn’t been sleeping well over the past few months. His dreams were haunted by images of Rey and his — Ben’s, god dammit it, Ben’s — mother. And without Snoke to guide him, he was having a hard time meditating. His mind was a more chaotic place than usual. The chest pain could just be a symptom of stress.

But what if Hux really did poison him?

Ren stalked through the penthouse, looking for his luggage. The valets were supposed to have brought it up while he was at the gala. The problem was finding it in the karking palace sized room. 

Ren opened the door to a bedroom with cream colored walls and a large bed with a silky, black cover. Stacked against the wall was a small mountain of burgundy luggage. Presumably Hux’s. They were only going to be on Athulla for a week, but it looked as if Hux was planning on moving in. 

Ren hesitated in the doorway, eyeing the neat pile of luggage. Curiosity took root and bloomed in the back of his mind. It couldn’t hurt to look. He would be careful not to break anything and to put everything back exactly as he found it. Hux would never know. No harm done. 

Ren approached the luggage slowly, as if it might jump out and bite him. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Hux wasn’t behind him. He couldn’t help but feel that at any second Hux was going to appear and scold him for snooping. Which was ridiculous — Ren knew through the force that Hux was still at the gala.

Ren slid one of the trunks out with the force and kneeled before it. Two bronze buckles winked at him in the room’s low light, egging him on. Ren flicked his wrist and they popped open with a snap, revealing a dark, inviting gap between the lid and base of the trunk. 

Ren started to look over his shoulder before he caught himself and gave himself a mental slap. He was the Supreme Leader. He could to whatever he wanted. Everything in the galaxy was his to rule.

Ren flung the lid of the trunk back and a crack pierced the air. His reflexes kicked in as his hands flew up, using the force to stop the blaster bolt that shot from the trunk. The thin strip of red plasma wavered centimeters away from Ren’s face, spitting quietly. 

Hux! That karking fool! How psychotic and distrusting did you have to be to booby trap your luggage? He could have killed someone! Or was that the plan? Was he hoping that Ren would go snooping and use the opportunity as an assassination attempt? Just how many assassination plans did he have up his sleeve?

Ren stepped away from the blaster bolt and let it go. There was no other way he could dispose of it. It shot through the cream colored wall, creating a charred mass of splintered wood. Hux was definitely going to notice. If the gaping, black hole blasted into his wall wasn’t an indication, the smell of smoke certainly was. And then Hux was going to know that Ren was snooping in his things. And then Hux would be angry at Ren and yell at him. 

So what? Ren thought. He was the Supreme Leader. Supreme Leaders could do whatever they wanted, to whoever they wanted, with whatever they wanted. Ren didn’t have to explain himself or have a good reason as to why he was going through Hux’s stuff. It was his right.

Ren imagined telling Hux that it was his right to go through his stuff.  
\--------------------  
Ren stepped back from the wall, head cocked to the side, making sure the painting was straight. Would Hux be suspicious of it? Everything in Hux’s room — the walls, the bed, the armchairs — was in hues of black and gold and cream. And the painting was emerald green and topaz blue, a vibrant depiction of the forests of Naboo. It didn’t fit the theme of the room at all, but it was the only painting big enough to cover the hole. 

Hux wasn’t suspicious enough to take down the massive painting, right? It took even Ren a great deal of maneuvering and cursing to get it up. The effort to take it down certainly wasn’t worth the meager reward of catching Ren red handed.  
\-------------------  
Ren dug through his black duffel bag and pulled out his comm. He sent a message to the hotel’s staff requesting a medical droid be sent to his rooms. It pinged a few seconds later with the staff’s acknowledgement. The droid would arrive in ten minutes.  
\--------------------  
The front door chimed with an entry request. Ren padded to the foyer to grant the droid access. The door swished open, and a boxy droid rumbled in on squeaky wheels. Ren watched as the clunky thing rolled by, his eyebrows pinched together. It looked like a piece of machinery from Darth Vader’s time, seconds away from shaking itself apart. 

Ren cautiously followed the droid into the living room and took up his place on the couch. The droid quickly rolled up to Ren, bumping into Ren’s toes. The smell of burnt wires stung Ren’s nose. 

“Good evening,” the droid said in a scratchy, excited voice. “My name is Harold, your personal healthcare assistant. What can I help you with this evening? Remember to be as specific as possible when you describe your symptoms so that I can diagnose you as accurately as possible.”

“I have chest pain,” Ren said.

Harold’s internal mechanism ticked. “Are you experiencing any other symptoms in addition to chest pain?”

Ren frowned. “Difficulty concentrating, agitation, and slight nausea.”

Harold ticked again. A metallic, claw like arm shot out from Harold. “Hold out your hand, please,” Harold instructed. Ren did, slowly, as if reaching out to pet a feral animal. Ren jolted when a sharp pain lanced through his hand. Harold’s arm retracted like lightning. 

“Hey!” Ren cried. 

“Blood is necessary to make a diagnosis,” Harold said. 

“You could have warned me,” Ren grumbled to himself, watching blood well on the tip of his index finger as Harold whirled, ticked, and beeped.

“I detect increased levels of serotonin, dopamine, adrenaline, and testosterone in your blood,” Harold said. “These are chemicals the brain makes on small levels everyday. Elevated levels of these chemicals are often present when humans experience love. People who are in love often report symptoms of chest pain, difficulty concentrating, agitation, and slight nausea, in addition to a loss of appetite and an inability to sleep.”

Ren gaped at the droid. “That’s ridiculous. I’m not in love. My conniving underling has slipped me a poison of somesort. I need an antidote. Diagnose again.”

“My data is not incorrect,” Harold said. “Another commonly reported symptom of love is denial. I can switch to therapist mode if you’d like to talk about it.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Ren sputtered. “I want it gone.”

“My recommended treatment is to confront the person you love and tell them how you feel,” Harold said. “People often report feelings of contentment and immense joy after joining with the person they love.”

“But I’m not in love!” Ren insisted. 

Was this some highly advanced poison Hux gave him? Something that medical droids couldn’t detect? It made sense. If it killed him, there was no way it could be traced back to Hux. 

Regardless, there was nothing more the medical droid could do for him, besides continue to wrongly insist that Ren was in love, of course. What a karking laugh that was. Who in Palpatine's name was he supposed to be in love with?  
\--------------------  
Ren was wrapping a plush towel around his waist, fresh out of the shower, when he heard the front door open. “Ren!” Hux immediately yelled. Not even six feet in the door and he was already yelling. When was he not yelling? 

“Ren!” Hux yelled again. 

Ren exited the bathroom and smacked straight into Hux. The shorter man gave a small oomph and bounced back, nearly losing his footing. Hux was still in his clothes from the gala. His ass was hugged by snow white pants, and a crisp white undershirt stretched delectably across his taut stomach. His jacket was nowhere to be found. 

“What do you want?” Ren asked. “I thought you were planning on spending the night with 'intelligent company.'”

Hux’s mouth parted, but the words seemed to get stuck in his throat. He glanced at Ren’s chest and swallowed. Ren looked down. All the indecent parts of himself were covered by the towel, but his muscles were on full display. Better yet, they were glistening with water. Hux seemed to like what he saw, if the appraising look in his eye was anything to go by. A small thrill went down Ren’s spine. He felt ridiculously pleased. And then just plain ridiculous as he purposefully flexed his muscles. 

Hux’s eyes shot back to Ren’s face. He cleared his throat. “I was notified that you requested a second medical droid be brought to your room. Try to destroy the room in a fit of rage and hurt yourself, did you?”

Ren smirked. “Come all this way because you were worried about me, did you?”

Hux scowled. “More like I was worried about having to pay damages fees for the room you destroyed. Try to remember that the point of this trip is to secure First Order funds, not further diminish what little savings we have left.”

“Rest easy, General,” Ren said. “The penthouse is fine.” Well, mostly fine, Ren thought. Minus the hole in Hux’s wall. But that was partially Hux’s fault for booby trapping his luggage.  
“Then what was the medical droid for?” 

Ren used the opportunity to gently search Hux’s mind. If he really did give Ren poison, now was the time to discover the truth. He probed for any hints betraying even a whiff of knowing. But the only thing Ren found was relief that the penthouse wasn’t in ruins, confusion as to why Ren requested a second medical droid when he had a perfectly good one in his rooms, and… concern? For Ren’s health? And there was something else there, something thrumming beneath it all, pulsing dark red in the deepest crevices of his mind. 

Arousal. 

Hux visibly grimaced. “Stay out of my head, Ren. I don’t want you poking around with your clumsy force powers and accidently kill me.” Ren retracted. His face must have betrayed his shock because Hux’s eyebrows furrowed. “Ren?” 

“It’s… nothing,” Ren said. “The medical droid was for… nothing. I’m fine. Just… tired.” 

Hux pursed his lips. Ren could sense that he wanted to say something, but he decided against it at the last second.

“Right, then,” Hux said. “The Prince has invited us to tour Athulla’s gardens tomorrow. I promised I would pass along the invitation. We meet at the shuttle bay at 0900 hours. Try not to cause anymore scenes.” 

Why don’t you try keeping your hands to yourself then, Ren wanted to say. Instead, he grinded his teeth and gave a curt nod. The last thing he wanted to do was trapeze through the jungle with an obnoxious, arrogant prince who didn’t know the definition of personal space. But there was no way he was going to let Hux spend the day alone with said obnoxious, arrogant prince who didn’t know the definition of personal space. 

Hux hesitated, his face briefly betraying the concern he felt. He wanted to ask Ren if he was sure he was okay. Ren could feel the question burning a hole through Hux’s mind. The need to appear to be indifferent and the need to quel his worries warred on in his head. In the end, Hux compromised. “If you need anything, I’ll be in my rooms. Goodnight, Supreme Leader.”  
Ren watched Hux spin on his heel and head toward his room. The moonlight filtering in through the glass wall caught his hair, setting it on fire. An answering flame seemed to burn in Ren’s chest, deepening the ache. When Hux closed his door with a soft click, Ren was alarmed to find that he almost felt sad. 

That was until a few seconds later Hux screeched. “Ren! What in bloody hell is this!”

Uh-oh. Ren made a dash for his rooms as he heard Hux’s door bang open.

“Ren!”


	3. Chapter Three

Ren stomped into the shuttle bay 10 minutes late, his usual black robes fanning out behind him. Hux’s eye visibly twitched at the sight of Ren, noting his tardiness and taking in his choice of wardrobe. In truth, Ren had been ready an hour before their agreed meeting time — hell, he’d been up most of the night — but he knew it would tick Hux off if he showed up late, forcing his precious prince to wait. The opportunity to irritate Hux was sometimes too tempting to resist. Disgracing the Prince was just an added bonus. 

Hux was dressed down in a simple pair of black slacks and a lavender button down shirt. The small splash of color was oddly mesmerizing against his pale skin and ginger hair. It appeared as if Ren wasn’t the only one who thought so. Standing at Hux’s elbow was Athulla’s obnoxious, shining star, staring at Hux like he was a chocolate parfait. 

Ren was annoyed to discover that the Prince was even better looking up close. He looked like a character out of one of those cheesy soap operas that Ren’s — Ben’s — mother used to watch. High cheekbones, strong jaw, glittering blue eyes, thick brown hair. His chiseled features were warmed by a dazzling smile of pearly teeth and dimples. There wasn’t a single blemish on him, from his ridiculously polished boots to his grotesquely styled hair. He was the image of perfection. Was this the sort of thing Hux liked? Ren fought the urge to smooth his hair back and dust his robes off as he approached Hux. 

“Supreme Leader,” Hux greeted. “How good of you to join us.” Those who didn’t know Hux would mitake his tone as kind, but Ren could easily detect the annoyed edge to his voice. “I was beginning to worry that you weren’t going to show.”

“And miss a tour of Athulla’s famed gardens? I would never. I hear they’re quite the spectacle, and you know how much I love flowers.” 

Hux’s face twisted into something spectacular at Ren’s words, equal parts distaste and begrudging amusement at Ren’s sarcasm. 

Ren turned his attention to the Prince. He was shorter than Ren by half a foot, forcing him to crane his neck to meet Ren’s eyes. That was something, at least. 

Ren extended a gloved hand. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced yet. I am Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Master of the Knights of Ren, Future Ruler of the Galaxy.” Ren heard Hux snort softly behind him. 

The Prince clasped Ren’s hand, unperturbed by the daunting title. “Prince Dantalian Spierce of Athulla. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Armitage has told me so much about you that I feel as if we’re already acquainted.”  
Armitage? So Hux allowed this weasel to use his first name. Ren had never known Hux to let anyone use his first name, not even Phasma, who was the closest thing to a friend Hux had. Ren certainly didn’t have the privilege of calling Hux ‘Armitage.’ He could imagine the volatile reaction if he tried.

It took all of Ren’s willpower not to break the Prince’s hand in his grip as he shook it. He had promised Hux that he would be on his best behavior today to make up for the exploded champagne glass and the blaster hole in the wall.

“That’s very kind of you,” Ren grit out. “Though I can’t imagine knowing me through Hux’s eyes has given you a very favorable impression of me.”

The Prince laughed. It was a stupidly pleasing sound. “On the contrary, Armitage speaks of you quite favorably. Though at times exasperatedly. I hear you had some trouble with a blaster bolt last night.” The Prince’s tone was light and teasing. If Hux wasn’t standing right there, Ren would have force choked the Prince until he turned purple. 

Sensing Ren’s building tension, Hux coughed. “Yes, well, now that the Supreme Leader has decided to show up, I don’t think we should delay our trip any longer. Dante?”

Dante. Not Your Highness or Prince Spierce or even Dantalian, but Dante. 

One of the few chords tethering Ren to sanity snapped. Ren’s gloves creaked as he balled his hands into fists. He focused on controlling his breathing.

“Right!” The Prince clapped his hands together. “Since I’m entertaining the two most important guests in all of the galaxy, I thought we’d take my private shuttle to my estate. The gardens are the most beautiful there.”

Hux held out his arm. “Please, lead the way.”

The Prince’s voice echoed in the cavernous shuttle bay as he directed the trio to his ship. He was droning on about something to do with the history of Athulla’s gardens, but Ren wasn’t paying attention. He was too busy thinking of an excuse to kill the Prince.

Hux pinched Ren’s elbow. “Remember your promise,” Hux murmured, low enough so only the two of them heard. “If you hurt so much as a fly today, you’re going to discover that my reaction to last night’s fiasco was mild compared to what I have in store for you.”

Ren shivered as he remembered Hux discovering the hole in his wall. Ren never made it to his room; he didn’t stand chance. Hux hunted him down like a rabid wampa. He was absolutely livid. He dragged Ren back to the scene of the crime and demanded that he explain himself. Then he gave Ren a four hour lecture on the First Order’s financial situation and why it was wrong to go through other people’s things. By the end of it, Hux was out of breath and panting, and Ren thought his head was going to explode.

Ren shook Hux off. “I have been nothing but civil so far.”

“So far,” Hux hissed. “That’s exactly my point. You look like you’re planning on sacrificing Dante in some gruesome Sith ritual.”

“I’m not a Sith,” Ren said.

“That’s not the point,” Hux said, exasperation tinging his voice. He stepped in front of Ren and placed a hand on his chest, stopping him in his tracks. Ren met Hux’s eyes. They were mint green in the fluorescent lighting of the shuttle bay. Ren had the strangest sensation that he was falling. “I need to know that I can trust you not to harm the Prince. The First Order can’t bare to make anymore unnecessary enemies. The accusations alone would —”

“Here she is!” the Prince declared loudly, cutting Hux’s sentence off. 

Hux broke his attention away from Ren and fixed it on the ship the Prince was gesturing to. Ren hated to admit it, but it was a beautiful ship — obsidian plating, rounded body, flanked by two carefully crafted wings, as delicate looking as birds’ wings. It was something only royal wealth could dream up.

“I give you the ISS Panama,” the Prince said. “The only one of her kind. Designed exclusively by Hurato Takahashi.”

Ren hadn’t the slightest idea who the kark Hurato Takahashi was, but Hux did, judging by the gasp he made. 

“I didn’t know he still designed ships,” Hux said, staring at the ISS Panama with doe eyes. He looked like a child in a toy store. 

The Prince smiled, clearly pleased with Hux’s reaction. “He doesn’t. I had it specially commissioned. It took a lot of persuading and more credits than I care to admit, but it was worth it. Do you like it?”

“Like it?” Hux asked, incredulous. “You just told me this ship was designed by Hurato Takahashi. I think I’m in love.” Hux gave the Prince a smile. It was nothing like the practiced smiles he gave at social events; this one brimmed with undiluted, simple joy. It was a blow to Ren’s gut, punching the air out of him. What would Ren have to do to get Hux to smile at him like that?

Die, probably, an unhelpful voice answered in Ren’s head. 

“Do you know how to fly?” the Prince asked Hux. “What am I saying?” The Prince laughed. “You’re the youngest general ever in the history of the First Order. Of course you know how to fly. I bet you graduated in the top five percent of your class.”

“You wound me,” Hux said, a coy smile playing at his lips. “I didn’t merely graduate in the top five percent of my class, I graduated as the Academy’s highest ranking student. Perfect marks in combat, shooting, academics, and piloting.”

“I’m not surprised,” the Prince said, his eyes crinkling in fond amusement. “So, care to take her for a spin?”

Ren trailed behind Hux and the Prince into the ship, following them like an ominous, black shadow. Ren’s chest throbbed as he watched Hux flit excitedly about the interior of the ship, remarking on the design. Ren had almost forgotten that Hux’s first passion was engineering. He had a gift for it. A remarkable gift. He had designed Starkiller, after all. 

Ren rubbed a fist into his chest. That karking ache was back. Hux just looked so damnably cute in his lavender shirt, his eyes sparkling with childlike awe. Ren just wanted to — to — to what? To be able to make Hux this happy? But why? Why did he hate it so much that the Prince knew who Hurato Takahashi was and Ren didn’t? Why did Ren feel like running the Prince through with his lightsaber whenever Hux smiled at him? Why did it hurt so much to see Hux flirt with the obnoxious heir?

Harold’s diagnosis rang through Ren’s head. No, that wasn’t right. Ren was not in love with Hux. Ren wasn’t that big of a masochist. Ren was only angry because… 

… because Hux was his general and the Prince was using unfair methods to steal him from Ren. Hux was instrumental to the success of the First Order. Nothing more. 

Hux turned his green eyes to Ren. A delicate strand of rogue, ginger hair swept over his forehead. 

Something crumbled in Ren. He suspected it was his last remaining bits of sanity.


	4. Chapter 4

Ren trudged up the stone steps leading to the grand entrance of the Prince’s estate home. It was a separate residence from the Royal Family’s main castle, but it wasn’t any less opulent, it’s tall marble facade dripping in wealth and luxury. The face of the home was set with numerous crystalline windows. A series of stone pillars flanked the bottom sides of a second story balcony, dark green ivy trickling down its sides. A glittering archway made from thousands of pieces of colored glass bowed over the double glass doors leading into the foyer. Lit torches blazed on either sides of the doors. 

Ren had spent the day touring the intricate gardens that sprawled the Prince’s vast estate. Or at least Hux and the Prince had spent the day touring the gardens. Ren had spent his day glaring at the pair, new and inventive murder ideas popping into his head whenever the Prince had the nerve to lay his rotten hands on Hux. 

Or whenever the Prince had pointed out a new plant to Hux.

Or whenever the Prince had held open a gate for Hux. 

Or whenever the Prince had breathed too close to Hux. 

Or whenever the Prince had breathed. 

The sun was setting now. The cloud cover had miraculously dissipated, parting to reveal a kaleidoscope of color — creamsicle orange, flamingo pink, plum purple. Ahead of him, Hux and the Prince were chattering excitedly away like old friends, the Prince loudly explaining the history and architecture behind the grandiose building. Hux listened with rapt attention. 

Plan A went like this:

Ren would trap the Prince in a corner and repeatedly bash him in the head with a rock.

Plan B was a little more tactful. 

Plan B went like this:

Ren would find the tallest cliff in Athulla and shove the Prince over it. In this plan, the Prince’s body was disposed of during the murder, making for easy clean up. 

Plan C was a bit more time consuming than the others.

Plan C went like this:

Ren would enter Athulla’s largest cities in disguise, posing as an unhappy subject under the rule of the Spierce Royal Family. He would visit seedy establishments and rant about how terrible the Royal Family was and how incompetent the heir to the throne, Prince Dantalian Spierce, was. As people began to agree with Ren and dissent grew in the populace, Ren would begin to organize secret meetings where attendees would collectively plot the overthrow of the Spierce Royal Family. Dantalian Spierce would be killed by Ren (but Ren in disguise) during the storming of the castle. 

“You must, of course, stay for dinner. I have the finest cooks in all of Athulla working for me.”

Ren snapped out of his revere. They were entering the foyer now, the interior of the house just as luxurious as the exterior suggested. Had the Prince just invited them to dinner? 

“It would be a pleasure,” Hux said.

“Actually, we can’t,” Ren interjected. Both men spun on their heel to look at Ren, bug eyed, as if they’d forgotten Ren was standing behind them. Probably had. Ren hadn’t spoken since lunch, and that was only to deny the Prince’s offering of honeyed duck. He wasn’t going to accept any kindnesses from his nemesis. “Hux and I have important business to attend to. We can’t waste anymore time on frivolous outings.”

Ren’s words registered on the Prince’s face like a slap, the shock of being spoken to so rudely releasing the hinge on his jaw. Satisfaction trilled down Ren’s spine. 

The Prince, to his credit, recovered quickly, plastering a warm smile on his face that immediately snuffed out Ren’s short lived pleasure. The Prince gave a cordial laugh, the last remnants of his offense washing away like dust under a stream of water. “Of course,” he said. “I apologize for my lack of consideration to your busy schedules. Time must be in short supply for you both, and here I went and just wasted an entire day showing you flowers. I’ll take you both back to your hotel.”

“No, please,” Hux said, grabbing the Prince’s wrist before he could turn away to fetch his stupid designer shuttle. Hux shot Ren a withering look. Ren read the warning as clear as day. ‘I will shoot you in the foot with my blaster if you don’t keep your mouth shut.’ Ren shot Hux his own warning look, though he didn’t know if Hux interpreted it correctly. ‘I will shoot him in the foot with your blaster if you don’t stop holding on to him like that.’ Hux’s face scrunched up. 

Hux returned his attention to the Prince. “We would be delighted to dine with you tonight. I think the Supreme Leader must have our schedule mixed up; our night is open. If you’d excuse us a moment though? I’ll have a word with him to make sure.” 

Hux didn’t wait for the Prince to consent. He gripped Ren by the arm and dragged him to a small alcove obscure by a miniature potted tree. Ren was definitely going to have five little Hux finger shaped bruises imprinted into his arm. The idea made his heart skip a beat. 

“What is wrong with you today?” Hux hissed. “You’ve been acting like more of a lunatic than usual.”

Ren was having a hard time concentrating having his face so close to Hux’s. He was too busy trying to determine what color Hux’s eyes were to properly answer his question. They changed color, depending on the lighting. Sometimes they were a deep emerald, other times they were a radiant sapphire. Right now they were translucent sea glass green. Right now, they were staring at Ren expectantly, the barest hints of concern crinkling the edges of them. 

“I’m tired,” Ren said.

It looked like Hux wanted to hit him. He was really beautiful when he was angry. “You can’t keep using that excuse, Ren. You’re an adult, not a toddler. You can’t throw a fit just because you’re tired.”

“I’m not throwing a fit,” Ren said quietly. Was it just him, or were their faces getting closer? He could see the individual freckles dusting Hux’s nose. 

“Then what was that just now?” Hux demanded. “You basically just told the Prince that he wasted your day, and then you rudely declined his invitation to dinner. Even went so far as to make up some lie about having important business to attend to. If only. Might I remind you that this is our important business, Ren. Securing funds for the First Order.”

“So that’s all this is?” Ren asked. “A ploy to charm the Prince out of his money?” He was only partially listening to their conversation. The vast majority of his attention was fixed on Hux’s mouth. The corner of it twitched when he resisted the urge to frown. Ren had the strangest urge to smooth the lines of tension away. With his own mouth, preferably. 

“Obviously!” Hux said. “Stars, Ren! What has gotten into you these past few days?”

“I might ask you the same,” Ren accused, anger returning some of his senses. He flicked his eyes back to Hux’s. 

“What are you talking about?” Hux asked. Confusion clouded his eyes. A quick Force check of his surface emotions proved the expression to be genuine. 

“I’m talking about you and the Prince,” Ren gritted out. “Or Dante, as you like to call him, gallivanting about together like a couple of newlyweds. Could you be any more clear about your intentions? Or were you being purposefully obvious to make me angry? Because let me tell you, Hux, it’s working. I’ve plotted about 26 different ways to kill him.”

“Ren, for Palpatine’s sake, lower your voice.” Hux glanced over his shoulder. “Do you think that’s a wise thing to say in the middle of the Prince’s house? There could be ears listening everywhere. Do you ever use your brain?” Hux looked back at Ren. His face pinched. “Of course you don’t. You just jump to conclusions and act on your most debased instincts. I don’t know what sort of ideas you’ve got tangled up in that hollow head of yours, and I don’t want to hear anymore about them. We’re going to exit this corner together and tell Dante that we’ve come to an agreement.” Hux held his hand up, preventing Ren from interrupting. “We’re going to tell him that we’d be honored to join him for dinner. You’re going to sit at the table like the gentleman I know you’ll never be and accept every morsel of food offered to you. You will be polite and pleasant. You will not glare, growl, or speak the least bit impolitely to the Prince, and Force help you if you so much as lay a finger on him. Do you understand?”

Ren’s eye twitched. 

“Good,” Hux said. “Let’s try to get through this dinner without starting a war. And tie your hair up. You look like a bantha.”  
\--------------------  
Hux said that Ren had to accept whatever food was offered to him, but he didn’t say anything about actually eating it. A loophole Hux should have been clever enough to close. Ren piled his plate with all sorts of exotic delicacies — smoked gorak, steamed oro bark, fresh malla petals, spiced flatbread — and planned to let it simply steam on his plate, getting cold. He wouldn’t touch a single flake. That would show the Prince what Ren thought of his cooks’ ‘ability.’

Hux, seated to his right, seemed to read Ren’s mind. He dug his fingernails into Ren’s thigh under the table, warningly, all the while casually sipping red wine and conversing with the Prince. They were back to talking about Hurato Takahashi.

Ren grimaced and fisted his fork in his hand. Hux wanted him to eat? Fine. Ren began to messily shovel food into his mouth, making as much noise as possible. Ren would eat so —

Hux dug his fingernails in harder. Ren dropped his fork, and it clattered on his plate. The jarring noise broke the Prince off mid sentence. Hux leveled Ren with a cool stare. Ren felt his face flushing despite himself. 

“Is everything alright, Supreme Leader?” Hux asked innocently.

“Fine,” Ren grit out. He picked his fork back up, this time eating the way he learned to in a life when his weekends were marked by political dinner parties. 

Hux retracted his vicious nails, but he didn’t move his hand away. Instead, it rested on Ren’s thigh beneath the table. The warmth of Hux’s palm seeped through the thick wool of Ren’s pants. Ren looked at Hux, but his face betrayed nothing. Did he know what he was doing, or was he too enthralled with his conversation with the Prince to notice that he was still touching Ren?

Whatever the case, Ren luxuriated in the small point of contact. It was almost nothing, but Ren felt like he was melting beneath Hux’s hand. The pain in his chest had been soothed considerably, as if Hux’s touch was the antidote to whatever ailment he was suffering from. 

Love, an unhelpful voice supplied in Ren’s head. Ren hushed the voice. 

Dinner drew on. Hux continued to drink wine and laugh pleasantly with the Prince. Their conversation topics varied widely, from tourist attractions on Athulla to the production of Corellian whiskey. The Prince inquired into Hux’s life. Hux admitted to having been born on Arkanis, his father was the commandment of the Academy he attended, and he owned a cat named Millicent. Ren almost choked on his food when he heard about the cat. He’d never seen, let alone heard, about Hux’s cat. Inconsequentially, Hux’s favorite color was red, he couldn’t stand the taste of oiled fish, and he could play the violin. All the while, Hux’s hand remained firmly planted on Ren’s thigh. 

Ren couldn’t decide if it was a sweet relief or intense torture. Somewhere in-between, he guessed. A taunt from the universe. 

The table was cleared by servants, and desert was brought out — bread pudding. White wine was poured to compliment the sweet dish. 

Hux’s thumb began rubbing slow circles into Ren’s thigh. Ren jolted at the soft movement. He snuck a look at Hux through the corner of his eye. Hux’s face appeared to be completely impassive, unaware as he listened to the Prince drone on about his upbringing, but Ren caught the barest hint of a smile tugging at Hux’s lips. Hux very well knew what he was doing. 

Ren glared at the square of desert on his plate, unsure of how to quantify this new information.


	5. Chapter 5

The clock standing at the back of the dining room chimed 12 times, signaling the late hour. It was one of those ancient, wooden clocks, with the rectangular glass front and swinging pendulum. The clock had been steadily tick-tick-ticking the last three hours of Ren’s life away, accompanying his descent into madness. Ren had single handedly redefined the meaning of insanity over desert. 

Insanity, n: Having Armitage Hux seated next to you at dinner, rubbing your thigh under the table all night, while conversing with an entirely different man, and not being able to do a single karking thing about any of it. 

“Stars!’ The Prince exclaimed from his seat at the head of the table, blinking at the clock in disbelief. “Is that really the time?” He laughed. “Armitage, you have cast a spell on me. I haven’t lost track of time like this in ages.” 

Funny how two people could have such vastly different perceptions of time. Ren felt like he had been dying slowly for an eternity. He wished Hux would just hurry up and deliver the final blow. Though Ren wasn’t entirely sure what the final blow was supposed to be. All he knew was that the torturous circles Hux’s thumb were making on his thigh were killing him.

Hux set his wine glass down, his ginger eyebrows raising to his ginger hairline when he saw the time. Was Ren really the only one who felt like he had been suspended in a timeless hell? 

“I’m sorry,” Hux said. “It seems as if the Supreme Leader and I have taken up the entirety of your evening. I hope we haven’t kept you from any important business.”

“Not at all!” The Prince said, waving his hands in the air. “If anyone here should be making apologies, it is I. I fear that I may have been too presumptuous when I invited you to dinner. I hope you didn’t accept merely out of politeness.” 

Don’t worry, Ren wanted to tell the Prince. I didn’t accept your dinner invitation because it was the polite thing to do. I’m sitting here now because the man sitting to your left threatened to kill me if I didn’t.

“Nonsense, Dante,” Hux said, reaching over the table with his freehand to squeeze the Prince’s arm. “Dinner was delightful. Wasn’t it, Ren?” Hux squeezed Ren’s thigh warningly — encouragingly? — and looked at him expectantly, a sickly sweet smile on his face. 

Ren furrowed his brows. Hux was toying with him, and Ren didn’t know if he wanted the game to last forever or if he wanted to flip the board over and have a tantrum. “Dinner was fi —” — nails — “good! Really good!” 

The Prince brightened up at Ren’s praise, like a sunflower turning its face to the sun. “I don’t suppose I could convince the two of you to stay the night here? I could take you back to the hotel first thing in the morning. After a quick breakfast, of course.” 

Ren wanted to tell the Prince where he could shove his breakfast, but those karking circles! Force help him, Ren was at his breaking point. Insanity had sunk its claws in deep. Ren kept his mouth shut, but only because he didn’t know what crazy bantha fodder might fall out of it if he opened it. 

“That would be wonderful,” Hux answered for the both of them. “There’d be no point in returning to the hotel this late at night.” 

“Excellent,” the Prince said. “ I’ll have my maids prepare rooms. Excuse me for a moment.” 

The Prince stood up from his chair and slipped out of the dining room, leaving Hux and Ren alone. Hux’s hand suddenly felt five times bigger. Ren resisted the urge to squirm in his seat. 

“You’ve been surprisingly well behaved this evening, Supreme Leader,” Hux said, cocking his head to the side in a show of feigned contemplation. His blue eyes glittered with something Ren had rarely seen the other man direct at him: amusement. 

Ren glowered. “And you’ve been unsurprisingly sadistic this evening.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Hux asked, flashing Ren his teeth. He gave Ren’s thigh a quick, biting squeeze with his nails. 

In that moment, Ren made a decision: He would steal a bottle of wine later in the night and get as drunk as possible. Maybe then things would start to make sense.  
\--------------------  
Ren took another swig of the bottle of red wine he spirited away from the Prince’s cellars. His shoulders shook spastically as he coughed from the burn. Every swallow trailed fire down Ren’s throat, churning acidicly in his stomach. It was like being poked in the gut with the tip of a lightsaber. Heat flushed his body. Alcohol was like drinking the lava of Mustafar. 

Ren held the bottle up to the low light of the chandelier hanging in his room. The remaining wine sloshed up the sides of the translucent violet bottle. He had drunk over two-thirds of the vile liquid. Only one-third to go. Ren grimaced as he brought the bottle to his lips, smelling bitter berry. He could do this. 

Swig. Swallow. Cough. Breathe. Repeat. 

The world, Ren discovered, did not make more sense while drunk. It was funnier, though. The journey to get there was horrible, but being drunk was rather pleasant. His body felt tingly, like being tickled lightly by a million feathers, and he swayed gently from side to side from his seated position on the floor. The whole world seemed to be rocking, as if it were a giant boat. Ren could feel a goofy smile tugging at his lips. It was like being on a carnival ride. He could understand why Hux indulged in Corellian whiskey now. 

Hux. A pang of longing stabbed through Ren’s chest, and the smile on his face vanished. He picked at the topaz carpet with his fingers. Ren missed Hux and his adorably grumpy face. He wished Hux was hear with him now, sitting on the floor next to him. They could share the remaining wine. And Hux could tell Ren all about Hurato Takahashi so that way Ren didn’t feel so left out. 

Wait a minute. Ren was the Supreme Leader. He was the Supreme Leader! There was nothing in the galaxy that could stop him. He could go and visit Hux right now. He was only in the next room over. 

Ren stood up woozily, his lopsided grin returning. 

No, no, wait, a voice in Ren’s head said. This isn’t a good idea. 

Why isn’t this a good idea? Ren asked the voice. We’re going to see Hux. 

Because it’s late, and Hux will be angry if we wake him up for nothing. We have to come up with an excuse. Something really important. 

Something really important?

Yes. If it isn’t something really important, Hux will yell at us and send us back to our room. 

How about we tell him that we’re dying? That’s really important. 

I don’t know. What if Hux doesn’t believe us?

I’ll be super convincing. 

Ren opened the door to the hallway and peaked his head out. Dark cherry carpeting spread out in both directions. Ancient artifacts interspersed the burgundy walls. Moonlight streamed in through the high windows. There wasn’t a single living soul in sight. The coast was clear. 

Ren took a ginger step into the hallway, his bare foot sinking into the velvety carpet. He trained his eyes on Hux’s door. That was his goal. He took another step, and the world lurched to the right. Ren tilted his body to the left to compensate for the sudden imbalance, but his feet seemed to have their own agenda. Ren’s legs wrapped around each other, and he went careening into a suit of ancient, metal armor. It clattered to the floor in a jarring cacophony of noise. Ren gave a short burst of laughter as the helmet rolled down the hallway. 

I told you this was a bad idea, the voice in Ren’s head admonished. 

Shhh. This is a good idea. We get to see Hux. 

Ren swayed on his feet as he narrowed his focus on Hux’s door. He lifted an unsteady hand and banged his palm against the mahogany wood. “Hux!” Ren shouted. “Hux! Open up! I’m dying!” Ren leaned his forehead against the cool wood and continued to smack his palm against it. “Do you hear me, Hux! I said I’m dying! I’m in agony! I’m dying, Hux!”

Ren stumbled forward when the door shot open. He grabbed the door frame for support, his body bowing over. 

“Ren, what in God’s name are you — Ren? What that kark are you — Ren? — What’s —” Hux grabbed Ren’s face between his hands and pulled him up. Ren’s eyes were suddenly very full of Hux’s face. His hair was mussed from sleep, his eyebrows were bunched together in confusion, his green eyes were darting between Ren’s. Ren grinned so hugely his face hurt. 

“Oh for Stars sake, Ren. Are you drunk?” 

Ren drew his face back, his hands still gripping the doorframe. He tried to put on his best normal face, but he was pretty sure he was still grinning like a lunatic. “Of course not. You know that Jedi don’t drink.” 

Hux wrinkled his nose. “Well your breath smells like the rear end of a tantan.” Ren’s smile fell. Hux sighed. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”

Hux put his hands in Ren’s armpits and attempted to dislodge him from the doorframe. Ren’s body spasmed at the contact, and his chest shook as he gasped and laughed. “Don’t do that,” Ren said. “It tickles.” 

Ren’s body was suddenly too heavy to hold up on his own. His knees buckled, and his legs gave out beneath him, sending him straight into Hux. Hux caught Ren with a grunt, but his weight was too much for the shorter man’s arms. They stumbled backwards into Hux’s room, tripping over each other’s feet in the dark. Hux’s heel met the carpet, and they fell backwards, collapsing on the floor in a heap of tangled limbs.


	6. Chapter 6

“Get off me, you oaf. You’re suffocating me,” Hux complained from beneath Ren. His voice was muffled by the layers of muscle and fabric his face was shoved into. One of Hux’s arms was pushing against Ren’s chest, and the other was wrapped around Ren’s side, reaching to smack Ren’s back. 

Ren struggled to orient himself. His face was pressed into Hux’s neck. The scent of freshly laundered clothes and mint mingled together and filled Ren’s nose. The smell was rather… intoxicating. It made Ren feel lightheaded, like he had just downed a whole nother bottle of wine. 

Ren pushed up onto his hands so Hux could breath, but he kept his knees fastened around Hux’s waist, effectively pinning the smaller man to the floor. Ren looked down and grinned. Hux was trapped beneath him, in all of his disheveled glory. He was wearing a pair of comfortable lounge pants and a soft grey shirt that had ridden up during their scuffle, revealing a stretch of smooth, pale skin. Hux was glaring at Ren like he was trying to use the Force to make Ren’s head explode. The expression was softened considerably by his bedhead. 

“Did you know that your eyes change color?” Ren asked, cocking his head to the side. “I thought it was because of the light, but I think they change when your mood changes. They’re bright blue right now. Like the oceans of Naboo.” 

Now that he could breath, Hux had stopped struggling. He was lying very still, his chest heaving with what Ren assumed was his rising tide of anger. “And what does that tell you about my mood right now, Ren?” Hux asked. 

Ren’s grin widened. “That you’re angry.”

“And you think that’s funny?”

“You’re very pretty when you’re angry,” Ren explained. Oops. Did he say that out loud? 

Hux’s eyes widened before darting to the side, no longer interested in meeting Ren’s stare. Hux kept his gaze fixed on the window and the bright moon filling the sky. Ren watched in rapture as Hux’s adam's apple bobbed with a swallow. Ren wanted so desperately to —

Wait, was Hux blushing? Ren bent his elbows, angling his face closer to Hux’s. His cheeks were definately pink. 

“What are you doing?” Hux asked, alarmed by Ren’s close proximity. He began struggling beneath Ren’s weight again, trying to wriggle himself free. 

“You’re blushing,” Ren stated, putting half his weight down on Hux’s waist to prevent his escape. “Is it because I said you’re pretty?”

Hux glared, and his blush went from a light dusting of pink on his cheeks to a deep shade of quickly spreading scarlet. 

“It’s from a lack of oxygen,” Hux said, huffing as he pushed against Ren’s chest. “You take up all the air in the room, you dumb behemoth.”

Ren was pretty sure his face was going to split apart from all of the smiling he was doing. The muscles in his cheeks were aching in protest. “Hux, are you trying to say that I take your breath away?”

Hux let his head fall back against the floor, giving a strained laugh as he stared at the ceiling. “For Saints sake, Ren, will you get off me already?”

Ren sat back and crossed his arms over his chest, settling his hole weight against Hux’s waist. “No, I don’t think I will,” Ren said petulantly. “This can be your punishment for torturing me through dinner.”

“You had the entire evening to plan your revenge, and the punishment you came up with is to sit on me?” Hux laughed outright now. “I don’t usually have high expectations for you, Ren, but this is a new low.” 

Ren smirked. “How’s this for revenge?” he asked. 

With a quick snap of the Force, Hux’s arms shot above his head and crossed at the wrists. Ren placed his hands on either sides of Hux’s head and brought his face close, not stopping until they were less than an inch apart. He could see Hux’s pupils dilate. 

Ren rolled his hips, sending delicious sparks of electricity racing up his cock. Hux inhaled sharply through his nose, arching into the contact. Ren repeated the action. Hux bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Careful, Ren,” Hux said hoarsely, peaking one blue eye open. “That’s a dangerous game. One I’m not sure you’re ready to play.”

“Don’t worry,” Ren said, finding a steady rhythm to his thrusting. His cock was beginning to swell from the exquisite friction between their bodies. He could feel Hux’s hardness straining against his lounge pants. “I’m not playing.” Ren dipped his head to nip at the shell of Hux’s ear. Hux shuddered. 

“What do you call this, then?” Hux asked, nosing Ren’s cheek to get him to look at him.

Ren pulled back an inch, enough to meet Hux’s eyes. Ren’s breath was coming out in hot, short puffs, ruffling the fringe of Hux’s hair. “Winning,” Ren said simply. He punctuated his words with a slow, deep roll of his hips. Hux gasped and pulled against his Force restraints. 

“Ren,” Hux said. His eyes were screwed shut, and his bottom lip was bitten between his teeth. “Ren, you’re drunk right now.” 

“So?” Ren asked a little breathlessly. He was beginning to lose himself to the frenzy, his head swimming from the alcohol and the friction. He was sailing high on endorphins. Ren had never felt this intensely good in all his life. 

“So we can’t do this,” Hux said. Ren faltered. “Not because I don’t want to,” Hux continued quickly. “Saints, Ren. What you’re doing right now— to me — it’s — I’ve never felt —” Hux gave a broken laugh. “Oh, never mind. You’re not going to remember any of this anyway. Just… if and when we do this, I want to do it right. I don’t want it to be some drunken fumble.” 

Ren’s scrambled brain went into overdrive trying to untangle the complicated emotions he was feeling. Hux didn’t want to do this. He wanted it to stop. Ren’s heart dropped to his stomach, a heavy weight settling in the swirling pool of alcohol. Disappointment shot through every nerve ending in Ren’s body, snuffing out his high. 

But Hux said they might do this again in the future? When Ren wasn’t drunk? Hope’s fragile wings fluttered behind Ren’s chest. It was a dangerous feeling. 

While he was trying to sort out his inner turmoil, Ren must have let go of his Force hold on Hux. Hux brought his hands to Ren’s face and forced Ren to meet his earnest blue eyes. He brushed his thumb across Ren’s cheek, a streak of wetness following in its wake. Ren was mortified to realize he was crying. 

Hux sighed. “You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?” 

Tangling his fingers in Ren’s hair, Hux brought Ren’s mouth down on his and kissed him so softly that Ren’s world shattered… 

… And came back together beneath Hux’s fingertips.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all my readers for your wonderful comments and support! I appreciate each and every one of you more than you can possibly imagine! As a writer, there's nothing more gratifying than having a supportive audience. Cheers :)

Ren rolled over with a pained groan, trying to escape the harsh sunlight that surged in through the high windows, his head pounding in time with his pulse. He had been tormented by Snoke for years, both mentally and physically, but waking up was a new level of torture. A headache of legendary proportions was throbbing behind his temples. His mouth was as dry as the deserts of Tatooine and tasted like rancor excrement. His body was a dead weight, feeling as if it had been infused with lead and then beaten by a gang of Hutts. 

Burying his head in a pillow, Ren tilted his face to the side and peaked one eye open. 

And then froze. 

Every muscle in Ren’s body tensed, as if preparing for an attack. Even his lungs seized up, robbing him of his ability to breathe. 

Hux was in bed next to him. 

Hux was propped against two stacked pillows, a mug of steaming caf in one hand, a datapad in the other, idly flipping through reports from the Finalizer. His hair was mussed from sleep, and a pair of wire rimmed reading glasses were tipped down the front of his nose. When Hux spoke, he kept his eyes glued to the glowing screen. “I imagine you feel like you just got trampled by a herd of bantha,” Hux said.

Ren openly gaped at Hux. “You’re wearing glasses,” he stated dumbly, in lieu of ‘what the hell am I doing in your bed?’ 

Hux pursed his lips. “How astute of you, Ren.” 

Ren pushed up onto his hands and knees and stated the next obvious fact as the sheets slipped off his body. “I’m naked!”

This discovery slammed into Ren with the force of a star destroyer at light speed. His brain buzzed with panic, trying to find and assemble the missing pieces of his memory. It was like grasping at smoke. There was an idea of an idea, but no real tangible image. The last thing Ren clearly remembered was dinner — and Hux’s sinful nails biting into the skin of his thigh. After that, everything became muddy. There was a bottle of wine and… a suit of armor? And his own voice yelling ‘I’m dying!’ And… 

Ren’s head pounded in disapproval at Ren’s prodding. It was like jabbing a finger in an open wound. His brain wasn’t in any shape to solve puzzles; it just wanted to shut down and sleep for a millenia. 

Ren decided to sort through the facts apparent to him instead.  
1\. Hux was in bed with Ren.  
2\. Ren was naked.  
3\. Hux was wearing reading glasses. 

That last fact might not have been crucial to understanding the situation, but Ren’s mind couldn’t help but fixate on the detail. For reasons beyond Ren’s comprehension and control, seeing Hux in reading glasses released a kaleidoscope of butterflies in his stomach. Maybe because he’d never seen Hux in them. It was something Hux only did in private — a vulnerability of sorts. And it was a secret only Ren knew. 

Or maybe it was because Hux looked so damned cute in them. Ren could imagine Hux wearing them while pouring over weapons schematics in his rooms on the Finalizer, late into the night, a lone light illuminating his desk as he occasionally sipped caf, just like he was doing now. 

Or maybe it was because —

No. Ren was supposed to be trying to bridge the gap between his memory, not fawn over a pair of reading glasses. No matter how sexy they might be on a certain angry ginger. 

Ren started over, amending his list of facts.  
1\. Hux was in in bed with Ren.  
2\. Ren was naked.  
3\. Hux was wearing reading glasses.  
4\. Hux looked really karking good in reading glasses.  
5\. It was pointless for Ren to even try to follow an orderly line of thought. 

Sensing Ren’s internal conflict, Hux sighed and powered down his datapad, slipping his glasses of his nose and placing them on the nightstand. Ren watched them go mournfully. Hux fixed his cerulean eyes on Ren. “How much do you remember?” Hux asked. 

Ren stared at the dark bruises littering Hux’s throat, trailing down to his collarbone, and disappearing beneath the collar of his sleep shirt. Ren swallowed thickly. “Not enough.” 

Hux rolled his eyes. “I tried to tell you,” he said, “but as per usual, you just rushed into the situation without listening to me.” 

Ren cleared his throat; it felt like he had a rock lodged in his esophagus. “And what situation was that, exactly?” Ren asked. His voice sounded higher than usual. Tight. Like someone was squeezing his larynx in a fist. 

Hux grinned wickedly. “An intensive one, to be sure,” he said, his blue eyes glinting maliciously. “It’s a real shame you can’t remember. You were so 'involved' in the process.”

Ren’s jaw dropped. He stared at Hux in disbelief. “You mean that you’re not going to tell me?”

Hux shrugged his shoulders, picking his datapad back up and putting his glasses back on. “Maybe next time you’ll listen to me.” 

“How does that make sense?” Ren demanded. “I don’t remember not listening to you! I don’t even know what order I ignored!” 

“Not my problem,” Hux said, taking a sip of his caf. 

Ren’s shoulders slumped in dismay. He collapsed back onto the bed and shoved his face petulantly into a pillow, like a kid having a tantrum. Ren didn’t care if Hux saw his childish display, he was too busy splintering into a million disappointed pieces. He’d spent the night in Hux’s bed, and he couldn’t remember a single damned thing about it. He didn’t think they’d had sex, but something physical definitely happened, judging by his nakedness and the bruises on Hux’s neck. The best memories of his entire life were stolen by a bottle of wine. A fact like that tended to snuff out a man’s happiness like a lit match in space. 

“We missed breakfast, by the way,” Ren heard Hux say. “I told Dante that you weren’t feeling well and had a tray of food sent up instead. It’s sitting on the dresser.” 

Ren’s spirits lifted minutely at the mention of food. Now that his attention was brought to it, he realized he was starving. The hollow space in his stomach rumbled indignantly. 

Ren wrapped a white bed sheet around his waist and padded to the dresser across the room. A silver tray with a silver dome top sat waiting for him. Ren pulled the lid off, revealing a steaming pile of fresh pastries. Ren could have identified them by their scent alone. They were a Nabooian delicacy, a treat from his childhood. Flaky breading wrapped around a cherry center. Powdered sugar sprinkled on top. If he were to allow himself something as frivolous as a favorite food, these would be it. 

“You kept mumbling about them in your sleep,” Hux said, his eyebrows furrowed at his screen. 

Warmth bloomed behind Ren’s chest and spread all the way to his toes. Hux had asked the kitchens to make the Nabooian pastries specially for Ren. 

Behind him, Hux mumbled something suspiciously like: “I fuck you for three hours, and you dream about pastries.”


	8. Chapter 8

After a savory breakfast of cherry pastries — which were almost as appetizing as a sleepy Hux — almost — Ren reluctantly made his way to the shower, much at the behest of Hux, who had very creatively and explicitly described Ren’s smell. Ren was glad Hux had insisted upon a shower, though, when he saw his reflection in the bathroom mirror. An uncontrollable smile leapt across his face. 

The mole dotted column of his throat was littered with small kiss shaped bruises, charoite purple and ruby red in color. They trailed from the soft underside of his jaw to the sharp curve of his collarbone, and lower still. Ren rose appraising brows as he followed the trail across the planes of his chest and down the taut muscles of his stomach, his eyes being pulled to a final dark bite on his inner thigh. He traced his fingers over the bruises, pressing against some of them just to feel the pleasurable ache that flared beneath his fingertips. Hux’s mouth had been there, hot and incessant. Not that Ren could remember. But the evidence was there, just as frustrating as it was gratifying. And the overall consensus was this: to be marked by Hux was absolutely divine. 

Ren kept the lights at five percent while he showered, his head still in shambles. He felt significantly better after inhaling a mountain of Nabooian pastries, but no pastry, no matter how magical tasting it was, could erase a night of copious drinking. He sighed in contentment as warm water surged out of the showerhead and streamed down his back, a welcome heat flushing his body as he rested his forehead against the cool tiles of the shower stall. The tension that had gathered between his shoulder blades seeped out languorously, following the trail of water down the drain. As for the rest of it, Ren’s body was shockingly lax. Probably because of last night’s activities, he thought mournfully. 

Ren tried in vain again to remember the night he had just woken from, but not even his substantial Force powers could penetrate the thick, drunken haze clouding his memory. Only a few flashes of sensation flickered in the back of his mind. The smell of mint. A broken gasp. Fingers tangled in his hair. It was ironic — what little Ren remembered was almost too much. His stomach flopped and his heart clenched; it was like endlessly falling from an infinite height. 

They hadn’t planned for an overnight stay, so Ren didn’t have a fresh pair of clothes to change into. He tucked a soft white towel around his waist — vanilla scented — and went back into Hux’s room to retrieve his robes. Hux had seemed to appreciate Ren’s glistening, wet muscles the last time he had ran into Ren exiting the shower, so Ren didn’t bother drying off. 

Hux was standing by the bed in a pool of sunlight, buttoning a white shirt up all the way to his throat, trying to conceal the numerous bruises sucked into the delicate skin. When he caught sight of Ren, his fingers slowed to a stop, his hands poised above his collarbone. His pupils swelled until the blue of his eyes was nothing more than a thin halo around black pits, and he inhaled sharply through his nose. 

A spark of satisfaction shot through Ren. He wasn’t sure what the rules to the game he and Hux were playing were, but he was pretty sure he had won this round. He pretended not to notice Hux’s stare following him as he bent over to pick up his black leggings. He let his towel slip a bit for good measure, revealing the peak of a hip bone. 

Hux snapped out of his trance. Fussing over the sleeves of his shirt and determinedly not looking at Ren, he said, “You’re dripping water all over the floor.” 

“I came out here to find my clothes,” Ren said, craning his neck around the room. Were those his boxers? Hanging from the chandelier? “I didn’t pack for an overnight stay, so I have to put my robes back on.” 

“And you couldn’t dry off before you came out here?” Hux asked, tugging at a white sleeve. “I don’t want to have to pay for water damage.” 

“I was trying to be considerate,” Ren explained. 

Hux’s eyes snapped to Ren’s, the seemingly nonsensical explanation enough to drag his gaze back. “In what way were you trying to be considerate?” Hux asked, incredulous. 

Ren smirked. “By letting you see me naked and wet.”

Hux gaped at Ren, scorn and amusement flitting across his features, battling for prominence. It was a beautiful thing — Hux at a loss for words, standing in the morning sunlight, looking as fine as a fresh picked rose in his white dress shirt. It wasn’t every day Ren —

Wait. Hux hadn’t packed an overnight bag either. Where was the lavender shirt? And where did the white one come from? 

“Did you go shopping while I was out?” Ren asked, forgetting his hunt for his robes. 

“What?” Hux asked, caught off guard again. 

“You were wearing a lavender shirt yesterday,” Ren said, motioning to the white shirt that now clung to Hux’s slight frame instead. 

Hux furrowed his brows and looked down. “Oh,” Hux said simply. And then, with a huff of laughter, “No, I didn’t go shopping you brute. Dante let me borrow one of his shirts. I didn’t fancy putting my dirty clothes back on.” 

Every buzzing atom in Ren’s body came to a screeching halt. He glared at the white garment like it was the most offensive thing in the galaxy. Because it was. 

“Take it off,” Ren said, darkly. 

“What?” Hux asked, taken aback by Ren's sudden change in tone. “No. Why should I?” 

“Because I am the Supreme Leader, and I said so.” 

“That doesn’t make any sense. Don’t be childish, Ren.”

“I’m not being childish. Your Supreme Leader just gave you an order. Follow it.” 

“I’m not going to follow orders that don’t make sense.”

“You will follow whatever orders I give you. I’m the Supreme Leader.” 

“You’re a Supreme Nuisance is what you are.” 

“This isn’t negotiable.”

“You’re right — it’s not. I’m not taking off the shirt.” 

Ren fumed, seconds away from stomping his feet when he spotted the half finished mug of caf Hux left sitting on the nightstand. Ren grinned savagely. With a flourish of the Force, the caf lifted from the cup, a swarming mass of dark brown liquid bubbling in the air. 

Hux’s eyes flashed. “Don’t you dare.”

“Last chance, Hux,” Ren said.

“Listen to me very carefully, Ren,” Hux said, taking steps back from the churning mass of caf floating through the air. “If even a single drop of that caf gets on me, I will personally teach you what true regret feels like.” 

“Are you going to take the shirt off?”

“No,” Hux said haughtily, raising his chin. “There isn’t a reason to. I will not be coerced into pointless acts by a petulant manchild.”

Ren shrugged his shoulders. “I gave you a chance,” he said, before flinging the caf at Hux with the Force. It exploded against his chest with a splat, sending flecks of caf in a million different directions, drenching the front of the white shirt in a brown liquid.

There, Ren thought, problem solved. 

Hux didn’t immediately react. He looked shocked that Ren had actually done it, staring wide eyed at his shirt as caf dripped down the front of it. He pinched the end of the shirt with his thumb and forefinger and peeled the wet fabric away from his body. 

“Ren,” Hux said, carefully, considering the ruined garment in his hand. “If I were you, I would find a safe place to hide.” His blue eyes flicked up to meet Ren’s. They weren’t the frozen balls of ice that Ren had expected — they were blazing pits of fire. A shudder wracked Ren’s body, and he took an inadvertent step back. 

One problem solved, Ren thought, and one bigger, much scarier problem created. 

“I’ll give you to three,” Hux said, rolling up the sleeves of the caf tarnished shirt.


	9. Chapter 9

Hux drew forward, a predator stalking its prey. Ren snatched up an iron poker from a stand on the marble hearth of the fireplace. He held it in front of him, balancing the heavy weight in his hand, creating a barrier between himself and Hux, who was prowling closer with a dangerous glint to his eyes. Ren could read the promise in them, and icy fingers creeped down his spine, chilling his blood while flushing his skin. Hux was doing strange things to him. Ren couldn’t decide if he wanted to be several galaxies away from Hux or inside of him. 

“If you think a fire poker is going to stop me,” Hux said, “not only am I insulted, but you’re dumber than I thought.” 

“It’s just a shirt,” Ren said, hoping his voice sounded steadier than he felt. “Try to be reasonable.” He could sense that he was running out of walking space, and soon his back would be forced against the wall, barring any chance of escape. His only chance was to talk Hux down. Too bad words were Hux’s forte, and not Ren’s. 

Hux laughed, high and dry, managing to sound only slightly manic. “You want me to be reasonable?” Hux asked. “And to whose standard of reasonability should I live up to? Yours? Because if that’s the case, you should be running.”

Ren shook his head. “I gave you a chance to take the shirt off,” he said, waving the iron poker in front of him. He had maybe four feet left to go before he was trapped. “You should have just listened.”

“And I gave you a chance to run,” Hux said. “You should have also listened.”

Ren’s heel hit the wall. “I don’t want to have to hurt you,” he said. The statement wasn’t entirely intended as a threat; there was an edge of desperation to it. 

Hux picked up a poker of his own, weighing it in his hands. “Oh, you can try,” he said, “but don’t hold your breath. I’d hate for you to pass out before I even start.”

“I’m not sure —”

Hux cut Ren off, blasé. “Did you know,” he asked, “that before the Order, when I was still at the Academy, that I was the captain of the fencing team? No? Well, I’m not surprised. It’s not my most impressive accomplishment. But I was good at fencing, and I’ve kept up the practice. You never know when being able to use a sword might come in use.” Hux paused, glancing up at Ren through fine lashes. “However, I must admit that though I dreamed about it in rather gruesome detail, I never thought I would actually get to use my swordsmanship against you.” 

Hux held the poker delicately in his right hand, his grip loose but sure. Although there was a sharp and potentially lethal object pointed at him, all Ren could focus on was Hux’s elegant wrists, pale and fragile and tapered. Ren desperately wanted to press his mouth against the inside of one, feel the fluttering pulse beneath his lips. His chest ached with the need. 

Ren swallowed. “You think that you’ll be able to take me down in a fight with a fire poker?” he asked, making his voice sound amused. “I’ve been trained to wield a lightsaber since I was six seasons old.” 

“Oh,” Hux said, “so you do have practical sword training. I always wondered. The only time I ever saw you with a lightsaber in your hand was when you were indiscriminately slashing at expensive First Order equipment, and those actions didn’t exactly require what I would consider skill.” 

“If you’re not careful,” Ren said, tightening his grip on his poker, “you’re going to discover just how little skill it requires to reduce expensive things into smoldering ashes.” 

“Thank you for the warning,” Hux said. “Allow me to take the same liberties you did and ignore it.” 

Bringing a definitive end to the preamble, Hux swung his poker down in a clean, sweeping arc, its target Ren’s throat. Ren raised his poker in front of his face and braced for the impact. Their pokers connected with a rattling clang. Ren shifted his left foot to accommodate Hux’s whole weight bearing down on him. Their eyes met, and something sparked and caught in Ren’s chest, inextinguishable. 

Inhaling sharply through his nose, Ren ducked beneath their conjoined pokers and swept beneath Hux’s arm. Hux spun on his heel, turning quickly to face Ren, poker poised. They circled around each other slowly.

“You dare attack your Supreme Leader?” Ren questioned over the pounding in his ears. His heart was beating hard against his chest. Not in anger or in fear, but in exhilaration.

“Never. That would be treason,” Hux replied smoothly. “Thankfully, I’m attacking a child in need of a good scolding right now.”

It was Ren who moved first this time. The force behind his swing drove Hux back two startling steps. Ren could hear the ginger’s teeth grind as he dug his heels into the carpet and pushed back with all his strength. Ren didn’t budge, his height and weight an impossible advantage over Hux’s slight form. 

Suddenly, Hux jumped back, causing Ren to stumble against the sudden lack of resistance. Taking advantage of this blunder, Hux whacked Ren in the back of his calves. Ren’s knees hit the floor, hard. Numbness shot through his legs. 

“Do you yield?” Hux asked. The sharp end of his poker was pointed at Ren’s throat, hovering over his adam’s apple. 

“Not to arrogant asses with pompous Imperial accents,” Ren said. He kicked Hux’s legs out from beneath him. Hux hit the floor, and Ren was on him in an instant, wrenching Hux’s poker out of his hand and throwing it across the room. He pinned Hux’s waist to the floor with his thighs, a smug grin stretched across his face. 

Hux returned a smile of his own. A flash of silver, and Ren almost didn’t catch Hux’s wrist on time. A dagger was clutched in Hux’s hand, mere centimeters away from Ren’s side. The shock was enough of a distraction to allow Hux to gain the upper hand. He flipped their bodies in a quick motion, switching their positions.

Hux stared down at Ren, a triumphant gleam in his eyes as his weight pushed Ren into the carpet. Ren stared back, feeling a little helpless. Hux’s face was flushed, his breathing was labored, and his hair was disordered. His caf soaked shirt clung to his body, revealing the lightly toned chest beneath. The dagger, just as lithe and dangerous as the man wielding it, was still in his hand, aimed directly at Ren’s throat.

“Do you yield?” Hux asked, chest heaving. 

Ren swallowed, his brain trying to process Hux’s words. It was hard to think when there was a rumpled, flushed Hux sitting on top of him. The majority of his concentration was focused on the way Hux’s hips fitted perfectly against his; only a sliver of his consciousness was now trained on the fight. 

Ren did the mental equivalent of taking a deep breath. He couldn't concede a fight, especially not against Hux, who would undoubtedly lord it over Ren for the rest of their lives.

Ren answered with a question of his own, stalling for time. “Do you always keep daggers up your sleeve?”

He needed to find a way to get out from underneath Hux’s dagger, to shift the balance of power, switch their positions, and tip the scales in Ren’s favor. Outright physical rebellion was out of the question. That was a sure way to get nicked by a knife. And that was if Hux was in a good mood. As it was, a physical lash out would likely result with Ren’s head on a pike.

And he couldn't use the Force in any major way. He could easily send Hux flying across the room — hell, he could send Hux flying to the moon — but Hux would consider that a victory, having pushed Ren to the point where he had to rely on the Force to win the fight. He would never hear the end of it. So, no big Force moves… but that didn't mean little ones were out of the question.

Hux was talking. “I thought it prudent that I arm myself after the ascendency of the new Supreme Leader, since —” 

Ren wasn’t really listening. With a light tug of the Force, Ren untucked the white towel from around his waist. The soft fabric parted to reveal his nakedness, still damp from the showers. Words seem to die in Hux’s throat; his lips parted, but nothing came out. It was just a slight hesitancy, a small crack in concentration, a fractional waver of the dagger, but Ren saw it, and in the span of a breath, he had Hux’s back hitting the floor, the dagger skittering under the settee. 

Ren’s dark hair hung around his face as he looked down at Hux. “You were going to usurp me with a dagger?”

It took a moment for Hux to respond, his face dazed and colored, surprised by the change in position or Ren’s nakedness or both. But as was the norm with Hux, he recovered quickly, his head no doubt calculating and adapting to the new situation. “I have one more trick up my sleeve, so to speak. A contingency plan.” 

“And what wa—oomph.” 

Ren was caught off by the sudden pressure against his lips. It took several shocked seconds for Ren to register the kiss, and within that infinitesimal amount of time, Hux’s arm had curled around his neck as he arched his back, fitting their bodies together. And really, that just wasn’t fair. Ren could stop a blaster bolts in the air, could pry secrets from people’s minds, could take down an army with the stroke of his lightsaber, but he had no defence against this, against Hux. 

Ren closed his eyes and allowed himself to be tugged down, bracing his weight on his palms as Hux’s tongue coaxed his mouth open. His lips parted all to willingly, and he reeled at the feeling of Hux’s silky tongue twining with his. He groaned as Hux’s fingers twisted roughly in his hair, contrasting the soft attention he was giving Ren’s mouth. It was so, so good. 

Hux whispered against his lips. “I win.” Ren opened his eyes to see slits of vivid blue staring back. Then the air was knocked from his lungs as the world spun and he was flipped onto his back. Hux clambered on top of him, bracing his hands on Ren’s forearms to keep his arms pinned to his sides. “I did promise,” Hux said, leaning down to whisper into Ren’s ear, “to teach you the true meaning of regret.”


	10. Chapter 10

There was someone knocking at the door. That much Ren could understand, miraculously. He just couldn’t form the words to inform Hux of this fact. He twined his fingers into Hux’s hair and tugged lightly but incessantly. He had been instructed — warned — not to touch Hux, but this had to be viewed as an exception.

Hux's head popped out from underneath the sheets that were pooled around Ren's waist. Other than his slightly disheveled hair, there was nothing to suggest the lewd act he was just performing on Ren — no swollen lips or flushed cheeks or heavy breathing. His pace had been too slow to warrant signs of exertion.

Their eyes met, sky blue on chestnut brown, and time seemed to come to a stop around them. The intensity of Hux’s gaze stole the breath from Ren’s lungs, and he reached out a trembling hand to touch Hux’s cheek. But Hux was already moving away, untangling his still fully clothed body from the sheets. He was back in his lavender shirt, the white one having been ruined by Ren. 

Standing up, Hux stretched languorously and stared down at Ren with sparkling eyes, no doubt appraising his handy work. Whatever Hux saw pleased him. Ren was sure he looked like a wanton mess — bruised lips, heated skin, tousled hair, naked body mottled with bite marks — for the same reason that Hux didn’t: the treacherously slow pace Hux had set. They had started hours ago — though it was more accurate to say that Hux had started hours ago and Ren had simply endured the sweet torture — and Ren felt with terrible certainty that Hux was long from being finished with him… if Hux finished him. 

Hux picked up the comforter they had kicked to the floor and draped it over Ren’s naked body, covering him from jaw to foot so he was nothing more than a flushed face shoved into the pillows. Hux regarded Ren for a short, quiet moment, then, his malicious brain having come to a malicious decision, leaned down to kiss Ren on his sweaty forehead.

"Don’t worry, darling,” Hux whispered. “I won’t be long.” Only Hux could twist words intended to comfort into a threat. 

Ren couldn’t retort if he wanted to. His tongue was clumsy in his mouth, and his brain was having trouble sending intelligible signals to the rest of his body. For the last hour, he had been able to do nothing more than babble incoherently at Hux. If he were to die right now, his last words would have been: Hux, please.

The sound of the door opening followed by a familiar, annoying voice shook Ren from his daze.  
Ren strained his neck to see the Prince standing in the doorway, worry lines etched into his ridiculously handsome face as he peered into the room, beyond Hux’s shoulder. Ren frowned as Hux stepped back and invited the Prince to step inside. 

“Oh dear,” the Prince said, approaching the bed Ren was trapped in. He came to stand at the foot of it. “You don’t look well at all. Hux told me you were sick, but I didn’t expect this. Should I call a doctor?”

“No, he’s fine,” Hux assured the Prince, coming to stand beside him at the end of the bed. “He’s survived much worse than this. It would be a waste of time to call a doctor in.” He locked gazes with Ren meaningfully. “Besides, he brought this on himself.”

“What did you say he’s suffering from again?” the Prince asked, brows furrowed. 

Regret, Ren wanted to say. 

“He just over exerted himself,” Hux answered for him. 

“Did walking through the gardens really do this?” the Prince asked, seemingly horrified at being the cause of Ren’s alleged illness. 

Ren answered the Prince in his head: No, it wasn’t walking through the gardens that did this to me, you imbecile. It was the fiend standing next to you. That pretty mouth that’s making polite conversation with you right now has been sucking me into oblivion for the past three hours. That’s what did this to me. 

“It’s not your fault, Dante,” Hux told the Prince. “The Supreme Leader simply doesn’t handle heat well. I warned him of what his actions would bring, but he decided to rush into the situation anway.”

The Prince nodded, but he still looked mildly guilty. Tearing his eyes away from Ren, he told Hux, “I came to tell you that your shuttle has arrived. There’s a Captain Phasma? Waiting downstairs.” 

What? Phasma was here? Ren shot Hux a questioning look, but Hux’s attention was trained on the Prince. 

“Excellent,” Hux said. “The Supreme Leader and I will be down shortly.”

If the Prince looked guilty before, he looked sad now. Fixing his mournful blue eyes on Hux, he said, rather dramatically, “It’s a tragedy to be parted from you so soon. I feel as if I’m being robbed.” 

Hux smiled indulgently. “It was a pleasure to share your company. I can’t thank you enough for the generosity and hospitality you have shown us.” 

“It was nothing,” the Prince said. “The pleasure was mine. If you ever find yourself on Athulla again, be sure to visit at your closest leisure.” 

“Of course,” Hux said. 

The Prince extended his hand. Hux took it without hesitation, but instead of a handshake, the Prince brought Hux’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to it. Hux’s eyes widened a fraction in surprise, but he didn’t snatch his hand away. The Prince’s lips seemed to linger for an eternity. If it were up to Ren, he would have cut the Prince’s hand off at the wrist. With a dull knife. Ren clenched the sheets in his fists. 

Straightening himself back up, the Prince said, “I will inform Captain Phasma that you will be down soon.” He gave Hux one last look of ill-concealed longing, his eyes moving over Hux’s face as if committing it to memory. Then he released Hux’s hand and walked out of the room. The door clicked softly behind him. 

In that moment, Ren was shocked to find that he actually felt a pang of sympathy for the Prince. Ren knew better than anyone what it was like to be smitten by Hux and the deep ache that accompanied that feeling. But Ren also knew what it was like to be in Hux’s bed, and that made all the world of difference. Having to actually walk away from Hux must be unbearable. 

Then again, Ren thought, as Hux’s eyes roved over his blanketed body, not being able to walk away from Hux could be just as unbearable. 

Hux’s eyes settled on the place where Ren’s cock was hard beneath the blanket. He said, almost distantly, “Phasma’s expecting us downstairs.”

Ren swallowed thickly. Licked his lips. Practiced forming words in his mouth. Hoarsely, he was able to get a single word out. “Why?”

Hux smiled faintly. Ren didn’t need to read his mind to know it was because of the way he sounded: ruined. 

“There’s been an attack on a First Order base on Vardos,” Hux said. “We’re returning to the Finalizer and will be heading there as soon as we’re on board. Admiral Nolan has reason to believe it was the Resistance who led the assault and has —” Hux paused, then laughed. “Is that look of panic on your face because a First Order base has just been attacked?” Hux asked. “Or is it because you’re afraid I’m going to leave you like this?” 

By ‘like this’ Hux meant hard. Painfully hard. 

Ren just stared at Hux, eyes pleading. He was beyond the point of caring if he had to beg; dignity was for the sain. He just wanted to come. Hux had teased him for hours without release, and Ren was desperate. 

“Shall I conclude the lesson, then?” Hux asked. Ren really hoped that meant that he was going to make Ren come now. 

Hux put one knee on the bed and leaned over to whip the blankets back, exposing Ren’s naked flesh. His cock strained against his stomach, twitching slightly as the cool air hit it. Hux wrapped his hand around the base of Ren’s cock and squeezed, just once, before bringing his hand slowly up. Ren’s breath caught in his throat, his back arching sharply off the bed as his vision danced. A wave of hot pleasure coursed through his body. 

“Do you want to come?” Hux asked. His thumb was rubbing over the tip of Ren's cock, smearing precum. He used it to oil his descent back down. Ren made a choked noise, the closest thing to ‘holy karking shit, Hux, yes!’ he could get. 

It spurred something in Hux; he began to pull Ren off in earnest after that. No more teasing squeezes or biting nails, just his fist gliding smoothly up and down Ren’s cock with increasing speed and pressure. Ren’s vision went white, and he knew that he was babbling again, drool dribbling down his chin, but he didn’t care. He was nearing the edge at light speed. Just a few more strokes, and —

Hux placed his other hand on the bed and leaned down to whisper in Ren’s ear. “Come.” 

The noise that Ren’s climax ripped from him wasn’t human. His vision turned black, and his hearing was drowned out by a high pitched ringing. His body seized, every muscle locking up in shock as wave after wave of violent pleasure wracked his body. 

\--------------------

“General Hux,” Phasma greeted with a salute from the bottom of the stairs. “Is Supreme Leader Ren okay?”

“He’s fine,” Hux said. “Just a little worn out. Over exertion and what not. He’ll be right as rain after some proper rest.” 

“I see,” Phasma said. “Do you require assistance getting him down the stairs?” 

“No, I think we’ll manage,” Hux said. Then, turning to Ren, whose head was bowed and whose arm was slung around Hux’s neck, said in a lower voice, “I trust you’ve come to a new understanding of the meaning of regret.” 

Ren muttered ‘conniving bastard’ under his breath as he carefully maneuvered his jelly legs down the stairs. Not without the help of Hux, of course.


	11. Chapter 11

Ren stared listlessly at the ceiling, sleep evading him despite the exhaustion that had settled in his bones. His eyes felt hollow and sore as they tracked over the dark paneling, searching for the answer to a question he didn’t know how to ask. Anxiety struggled to break out of his chest. He was torn between the forces of desire and reality. His body vibrated with the need to get up and do something — anything — to relieve the tension buzzing through his veins. But the irrepressible torrent of thoughts spiraling madly through his head prevented him from performing even the most menial of tasks. He just couldn’t seem to think. 

He played the events of the last week over in his head, impulsively, incessantly, trying to make sense of it all — the sardonic remarks, the soft words, the teasing, the tension, the anger, the kissing, the… other things. Everything that had transpired between himself and Hux suddenly seemed so much bigger, scarier, now that they were back on the Finalizer. The familiar halls of the ship threw the events of Athulla into a stark light, creating an indisputable contrast between normality and phenomenon. Ren realized, with no small amount of dread, that it felt as if he had just woken from a dream. The best dream of his life. And now that they were back on the Finalizer, returned to their normal lives, Ren wasn’t sure if the dream would continue or come to an abrupt end. 

Ren was the most powerful and feared Force wielder in the galaxy. He could read people’s minds, pluck their secrets out like thorns from skin, compel them to act in any way he desired. He could move colossal objects effortlessly, take down entire armies with the flick of his wrist, and stop a thousand blaster bolts at once. But despite his immense Force capabilities, Ren felt despairingly and utterly powerless. There was nothing he could do; he was at the mercy of Hux. Only this time it wasn’t his body at stake — it was his heart. 

There was a soft knocking at his door, the ginger devil himself summoned by Ren’s incessant thoughts. A heavy weight sunk in his stomach, stirring up tendrils of anxiety and anticipation. Grimly, he waved his hand in the air in a vague motion, and the front door opened. Prim footsteps promptly drew down the hallway towards Ren’s bedroom, each sharp click of heel on tile a stab to his already racing heart. Ren fought the urge to hide under the blankets.

“Karking hell,” he heard Hux mutter quietly to himself. “He’s like a karking bat, living in the dark. And what is this mess? Looks like a wampa’s cave. Hasn’t he ever heard of…”

The rest of Hux’s sentence trailed off as he shouldered his way past Ren’s partially closed bedroom door and entered the dark room. Then he continued to grumble unintelligibly to himself as he fussed about the space, doing stars’ knows what to Ren’s things. Ren remained sprawled across his low bed, breath frozen in his lungs, listening to the sounds of clanking metal and the scrape of furniture being dragged across the floor. 

“Lights, fifty percent.” Hux’s voice cut through the air. The chamber flooded with blinding white light. This time, Ren didn’t resist the urge to pull the blankets over his head, the light like needles to his eyes. 

“Lighty, twenty-five percent!” Ren’s urgent command was muffled by the blankets.

Hux sighed. “Such a child. Lights, thirty-five percent.”

Ha! Ren thought. Says the man who can’t even give up enough control to allow someone else to determine the percentage of light in a room. 

“I’ve brought you breakfast,” Hux said. It sounded like a declaration, like he had just boldly admitted to a crime before a tribunal. Then, quieter, as if to himself, “Seems to becoming a habit of mine.” Ren could practically hear the troubled frown in his voice. 

“More Nabooian pastries?” Ren asked, half mocking, half hopeful, still burrowed beneath his blanket. 

“Why don’t you come out and see for yourself?” 

Ren shook his head. Now that he was under it, he had to desire to part from the dark haven his blanket provided. He was perfectly content with not having to look into Hux’s damning eyes. “You can leave the food on the dresser,” Ren said. “I’ll eat it later.” Then, after a short pause, during which he grappled to find the right words that would set Hux on his way, he said, “Thank you for the — breakfast. And for the trouble you went through to procure it. I won’t — keep you away from your duties any longer. Have a — pleasant day.”  
The blanket was suddenly ripped off Ren’s body. Ren’s hands flew to his face to shield his eyes from the onslaught of light. Through slitted eyes and the cracks between his fingers, Ren could see Hux was standing over him, the blanket clutched and hanging from his right hand. He couldn’t see Hux’s face very well, but based off of the rigid way he was holding himself, Ren thought he looked almost… angry. 

“What’s wrong?” Hux asked, tone light. 

Yep, Ren thought. He’s definitely angry. 

“What do you mean?” Ren asked. 

“You know very well what I mean. Don’t play dumb,” Hux said. “I know the impulse comes naturally to you, but I also know when you’re lying.”

Ren lowered his hands and blinked into Hux’s face, trying to adjust to the light… and to the intensity of that cool, blue gaze. “I’m not lying. There’s nothing wrong. I’m just not hungry.”

“Not hungry,” Hux repeated, flatly. “I’ve seen you inhale an entire platter of pastries in under ten minutes. And that was after previously having an eight course meal at dinner. And you’re telling me that you’re not hungry?” 

“That was different,” Ren protested. “Of course I was hungry after we —” Ren stopped himself before he could finish the horrifying sentence, the truth too big for him to voice in the small space they were in. 

Unperturbed, Hux picked up where Ren left off. “After we had sex? So you’re saying that if I fucked you right now, you might be more inclined to eat?”

Ren felt blush creeping up his neck and into his cheeks. The thought ‘I’d be inclined to do just about anything if you promised to fuck me’ impishly rattling around his brain. It was quelled by the larger part of him that was no longer sure of how he was supposed to act around Hux. He averted his eyes as he searched for an appropriate answer. The moment dragged out painfully.

The silence was abruptly broken by Hux. In a cold and detached voice he said, “Apologies, Supreme Leader. That was inappropriate of me to say. You don’t have to explain anything. I understand perfectly. To think that you would want to continue our… activities… after we returned to the Finalizer was presumptuous and wrong of me. I’m sure you have many other suitors on board. I was nothing more than a passable substitute. I’ll take my leave now.”

And then Ren watched in unthinkable horror as Hux quickly turned on his heel and strode out of the room, leaving his shocking statement hanging in the air.


	12. Chapter 12

Hux wasn’t angry at Ren. Ren knew what Hux’s anger looked like. He had been on receiving end of it many times. It was quiet, seething, and carefully manipulated. Hux wielded his anger like a sharp blade, twisting it just right, angle and degree of pressure meticulously calculated in order to achieve his desired results. He was rarely explosive. Hux knew that people could recover quickly from a single outburst. If you truly wanted to break someone, you had to wear them down over a period of time, releasing your furry slowly with deliberate words. 

If you really screwed up, like really bad, like ‘I let a junker girl from Jakku blow up your life’s work’ bad, then Hux might explode. In those cases, you prayed for your life. Hux’s mask of composure slipped, and the manic beneath revealed himself. There were the hour long rants, the cheeks that went from pink to scarlet to purple, the voice that pitched higher and higher the longer he spoke, the fists that clenched and shook at his sides, the hair that became disarrayed from his crazed pacing and the eyes that glinted with murderous intent, burning sky blue. By the time Hux was finished, whoever was on the receiving end of his rage was usually a shrivelled up husk of themselves. Ren had seen officers cry in the face of Hux’s fury. 

It had been two days since Hux had left Ren’s room after making the absurd claim that Ren’s interest in Hux was only a distraction while he was away from the Finalizer. And within that time, Hux hadn’t approached Ren once. If something needed to be communicated or if orders needed to be approved, Hux sent Mitaka to do his bidding. Every atom in his frustrating body was hell bent on pretending that Ren didn’t exist. 

No, Hux wasn’t angry. He was something much, much worse. 

Ren had surmised that Hux was upset—the way he had practically fled Ren’s chambers was a dead giveaway. Ren wanted to chase after him, to pull him to his chest, bury his nose in his ginger hair, and wash the hurt away, but he was struck dumb and immobile by the terrible words that had poured from Hux’s mouth:

‘Apologies, Supreme Leader. That was inappropriate of me to say. You don’t have to explain anything. I understand perfectly. To think that you would want to continue our… activities… after we returned to the Finalizer was presumptuous and wrong of me. I’m sure you have many other suitors on board. I was nothing more than a passable substitute. I’ll take my leave now.’

A ‘passable substitute?’ Is that really what Hux thought he was? Because if that was the case, then Hux was a bigger idiot than even Ren to have mistaken Ren’s infatuation for indifference. Did Hux not see the effect his mere presence had on Ren? Did he not hear the way Ren’s breath hitched at the sight of him? The way his heart pounded in his chest? Did he not feel the way Ren’s eyes followed him in a crowd and burned holes through anyone who dared approach him? And then there were the moments of their shared intimacy. How did Hux not feel Ren’s explicit surrender? His adoration? His trust? His desperation? Ren thought it was glaringly obvious that he was at Hux’s mercy. 

But Ren had hesitated when Hux had mentioned their coupling, and Hux had interpreted that hesitation as regret. 

As soon as he was able to think in a semi-straight line, Ren had sought Hux out, the terrible words echoing in his head. He needed to fix this. 

He had found Hux on the bridge. He was not interested in talking to Ren, to say the least. The look he had leveled Ren with when he saw him approaching could have sent an enemy army running in the opposite direction. It had sent a trickle of fear sliding down Ren’s spine. Ren had known that it wasn’t going to be easy. Hux was the most stubborn, prideful man he knew, and Ren had hurt him. He had expected that he would have to apologize profusely and submit to some deranged torture, but after that, he had thought Hux would begrudgingly forgive him and they would fall into bed together. 

What Ren had not expected was the cool contempt with which Hux had treated him with, even after he had practically begged on his knees for Hux to hear him out, in front of everyone on the bridge. Hux’s only response had been a slight arch of his brow before he spun smoothly on his heel and walked away. 

After that, Ren had changed tactics. 

It had started with a cleaning droid. Ren had lured it into a secret alcove and slashed at it with his lightsaber until it was a sparking mess of scorched metal. Then, with a slight push of the Force, he had sent it on its way. It had terrorized the crew for half an hour before it was caught and shut down, its internal wiring misfiring and causing mini disasters to erupt across the ship.

When the droid incident failed to capture Hux’s attention, Ren had had to step up his game. He had entered the training room at 0600 hours, lightsaber in hand, and had left at 0700 hours, the training room in flames behind him. 

But that plan, too, had failed. Hux had failed to appear in Ren’s doorway to admonish him for his childish behavior and destructive actions. 

So it wasn’t Ren’s fault that it had to come to this. Drastic times called for drastic measures. Hux had left him with no other option. 

Millicent wove her body between Ren’s leg, brushing the side of her face affectionately against Ren’s calf. Ren’s black robes were now covered in a thick layer of orange cat hair. He suspected that the rest of his rooms were well on their way to looking like him. The cat shed an ungodly amount of hair. 

And yet, miraculously, when Ren had broken into Hux’s chambers to kidnap Millicent, he hadn’t seen a single strand hair on any of the furniture. A mystery beyond that of the Force itself.

Millicent chirped up at Ren, demanding attention, and Ren really couldn’t help himself. The pampered, furry creature held sway over his heart. He stooped down and scratched her thoroughly behind the ears and under the chin. A low rumbling sound began to emanate from her throat, and she closed her eyes, her head nudging Ren’s hand in encouragement.

When Ren straightened himself back up, Millicent looked at his face with flashing eyes, and Ren was reminded of her owner. Then she turned from him and sauntered off. Ren watched in vague amusement as she hopped onto his bed and climbed onto his flattened pillow. She spun in a slow circle, kneading the cotton case, before lowering herself with all of the grace of a lady. Her small paws stretched out before her as she yawned. And then she nestled in to take a nap, perfectly content in her new surroundings. 

A grin broke out across Ren’s face. He could get used to having Millicent around. She was proud and pampered and too smart for her own good. Just like Hux.

There was a sudden loud knocking at Ren’s front door. Ren’s heart jumped into his throat. Millicent’s ears twitched and she raised her head. A look of familiar annoyance crossed her features, and she stared at Ren. Her flashing eyes said, ‘That would be the door, Ren.’ 

Ren swallowed. “If he tries to kill me, you’ll stop him, right?” 

But Millicent just huffed quietly and settled back down, her ears twitching slightly as she drifted back off to sleep. 

Ren shook his head. “I’m talking to a cat,” he muttered to himself. Then, looking up at the ceiling, “Force help me. I’m talking to a cat. And Hux is at my door.” 

The knocking grew louder and more incessant. Ren drew in a breath. He reminded himself that this was the plan: kidnap Millicent and force Hux to come to him. Ren was going to use this opportunity to clear up the miscommunication and fix their relationship. All he had to do was convince Hux to listen him by holding his cat hostage. 

Ren padded to the foyer and stood before his looming front door. There were no knuckles rapping across his door, but a fist trying to pound it down. Ren eased the breath from his lungs and accepted the entry request blinking on the security screen embedded in the door. It opened with a light swish, and —

A blaster bolt shot through the air. 

Ren stopped it inches away from his face, his hand squeezed in a tight, trembling fist at the unexpected effort of controlling it. 

Hux stepped into the room behind the blaster bolt, a black plasma gun lowered at his side. There was a mad glint to his eyes. 

“Ren,” Hux said, voice savagely calm, "did you steal my cat?”


	13. Chapter 13

In hindsight, perhaps kidnapping Millicent wasn’t the greatest idea. It fell somewhere between trying to fight a wampa off with a toothpick and trying to trick the Hutts out of their money. The only silver lining was the knowledge that by the end of this encounter, Ren likely wouldn’t have to suffer the ache in his chest anymore.

After all, dead men didn’t feel. 

Hux was standing in the dark foyer of Ren’s chambers, looking like an angel of death. His greatcoat and tunic were gone. In its place was a pair of black lounge pants and a long sleeved, cottony grey shirt with a low, curved neckline that displayed the tempting hollow of his throat. There was a leather holster wrapped around his waist. A fringe of damp hair hung over his eyes. The plasma gun he had just used to shoot at Ren with was held casually in his right hand. 

Hux asked the question calmly, his tone at odds with the red blaster bolt that wavered a hair's breadth away from Ren’s nose.

“Ren, did you steal my cat?” 

Ren experienced the fleeting urge to laugh. No one made an entrance quite like Hux. 

Hux raised the plasma gun and fired off another shot. Ren caught it in a second Force grip before it could tear through his chest. “I asked you a question, Ren,” Hux said. “Am I to take your silence as an admission?”

Ren’s heart sped up. “Consideration,” he said. His voice sounded thick. He cleared his throat and tried again. “My silence is consideration, not admittance. I don’t want to say the wrong thing and get shot.” 

Hux barked a short laugh. “If you didn’t want to get shot, then you shouldn’t have stolen my cat.”

Ren said, “I thought that I hadn’t been established as the thief yet.”

A third blaster bolt zipped through the air. It hovered precariously next to Ren’s right ear. 

“Don’t insult my intelligence, Ren. Who else would break into my private chambers and steal my cat?” 

“Mitaka?” Ren ventured.

A fourth blast, this one aimed at Ren’s foot. The air filled with a staticy hum. Hux stared at Ren, waiting, one brow arched in apathy. His face was cast in a menacing red glow. Orange light flickered in his blue eyes, like hellfire. 

“I needed to see you,” Ren said quietly. “No harm has come to Millicent.”

Hux scoffed. “I highly doubt that,” he said, sliding the plasma gun into the leather holster that hung low around his hips. “Just breathing the same air as you is toxic.” Hux side stepped the four blaster bolts hovering in the air around Ren and made his way deeper into Ren’s chambers. 

“I need to talk to you,” Ren called after him. “That was the whole point behind all of this.”

“Little of what you do has a point, Ren,” Hux called back. “You just act without thinking. Where is she?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” Ren said, ignoring the question. “When you brought me breakfast, I think I gave the impression that I regretted what we had done. But I—”

“Milli!” Hux yelled, cutting Ren off. “Milli! Come here, girl! Milli!”

Ren raised his voice. “But I don’t regret it, Hux! Not a single moment of it! It was hell watching the Prince fawn over you! And even worse to see you flirt back with him! And I know it was all for the sake—”

“Milli! Milli! Where are you! It’s time to leave the idiot man’s house! Milli!”

“— for the sake of securing First Order funds, but it still drove me crazy! I’m still thinking up ways to kill him! But when I woke up in your bed that one morning, I had never been so happy in my life! It made—”

“Milli!” It was practically a screech. “Milli, you come out right now! Milli!”

“It made me—”

“Milli!”

“—realize that—”

“It’s time to go!”

“—that—”

“Milli!”

Ren growled. He didn’t look over his shoulder as he marched after Hux. The sound of blaster fire hitting his wall erupted behind him. There was a sizzling sound, and smoke tinged the air. 

“Hux!”

“There you are, you troublesome cat! I know, I know. It’s not your fault. The Moron did this.”

“Hux!”

“Let’s leave this awful place. I have dinner waiting.”

Hux appeared in the doorway of Ren’s bedroom carrying Millicent in both arms. When he saw Ren approaching, he stopped, raised his chin, and glared. Ren glared back. He planted himself in front of Hux and barred his escape. 

Hux sniffed. “Excuse us,” he said. “We’re leaving.”

Ren’s voice was somewhere between a growl and a plea when he said, “Can’t you see I’m trying to fix this?” 

Hux asked, “By stealing my cat?”

“No!” Ren said. "Well—kind of—yes—technically— I guess—But only because I had to! You didn’t give me a chance to explain!”

Hux brought Millicent closer to his chest. “I already told you,” he said, voice hard. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. I understand it perfectly. You were just bored and needed someone to play with while you were away from the Finalizer and attending boring galas. I should have seen it sooner. To think that you—you cared for me in any capacity was—ludicrous. It’s a mistake I won’t—”

Ren grabbed Hux’s shoulders roughly in his hands and shook him. “Would you please just listen to me!” Ren shouted. Millicent, startled by the noise, struggled in Hux’s arms and jumped down. Her tail swished in the air as she disappeared into the black depths of Ren’s room. Hux barely registered her departure. His wide green eyes were fixed on Ren. Shock had wiped all expression from his pale face. 

Ren blew out a breath and spun on his heel, turning his back to Hux. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes until white checkered patterns bloomed behind his lids. Then he gave a shaky laugh. His whole body was trembling from the force of his pent up emotions. He was a damn ready to break, and Hux was the town waiting to be wrecked by the flood. 

Ren scrubbed his hands down his face. Looking at the ceiling with tired eyes, he asked the universe, “Why did I have to fall in love with such a stubborn man?” 

He heard Hux sputter behind him. Then, with quiet conviction, as if to himself more than Ren, he said, “I am not stubborn.”

“You see?” Ren asked, still looking up at the ceiling. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. I say that I love him, and he focuses on the part where I called him stubborn. What would you call that, if not stubborn?”

“Ren, what are you—”

“He also interrupts me a lot,” Ren continued. “And he calls me vulgar names and insults my intelligence every chance he gets. He even tried to shoot me tonight, even though I’m his Supreme Leader. So he’s incredibly brazen was well as stubborn. I think I might have terrible taste in men.” 

“Well if I’m so terr—”

“But I can’t help it,” Ren said, lowering his eyes to the floor. “I can’t help myself.” Then, turning to look Hux in the eye, with quiet vehemence, he said, “I’m lost to you. Do you understand?"


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello all of you beautiful, lovely people! I know I've already said this, but it must be said again: thank you so much for taking the time to read my story and leave kudos and write encouraging, funny comments! It makes me so happy to see people enjoying my work!

Ren had rarely seen Hux speechless. The sharp tongued man always had some cutting remark at the ready, always prepared to strike his opponent down with a few well chosen words. He probably went to bed and thought up insults before he drifted off to sleep as some deranged substitute for counting sheep. Somewhere in that demonic head of his was an arsenal of quips and jeers meticulously construed for every possible situation he could think of. He filled in the gaps with pure wit. 

But this was evidently a situation that transcended the bounds of Hux’s imagination and intelligence. He made no snappy retorts or biting comments. He didn’t even scoff. Hux was the farthest thing from verbal right now. Completely at a loss for words, he looked like he had just gotten hit in the head with a falling anvil, like some cheesy cartoon character in the silly holonet shows Ren watched while growing up. Hux had the dumbest expression of shock on his face. For once, the General did not wear his emotions eloquently. 

His eyes were as wide as saucers and as green as Takodana. His mouth was hanging open. It wasn’t a small, delicate parting of his lips. Instead, it looked as if his jaw had broken from the shock and was now swinging from a hinge. The creases in his forehead were more pronounced, and his whole body was tilted forward, as if trying to catch the meaning behind Ren’s words. Enlightenment did not grace Hux with her powers. He continued to stare dumbly. Ren wasn’t even sure if he was breathing, he was so statue like. Had Ren’s words really thrown him that badly? 

‘I’m lost to you. Do you understand?’ 

Clearly, Hux did not understand. But for Stars sake! Could Ren be any clearer? Should he write his feelings down in a report? Would Hux understand that better? Or maybe he should make a powerpoint presentation? And have a meeting with him in the Finalizer’s boardroom? Hux could ask questions and take notes on his datapad. Ren could explain his feelings in bullet points and use bold font for the important parts. Would Hux be less confused then? 

Finally, dragging his consciousness up from the depths of whatever purgatory it was trapped in, Hux blinked back to awareness. With a small frown and a slight note of puzzlement to his voice, he said, “But you’ve always lost to me.”

Ren couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing, half in frustration, half in begrudging fondness. Really. What was one to do with Armitage Hux? 

“What?” Hux demanded, defensive. “It’s true. If it weren’t for your stupid Force powers, our roles would be switched right now.” 

Ren shook his head, still smiling. “For all the intelligence you claim to possess, you’re still incredibly daft when it comes to certain things,” he said. “Only you could effortlessly brainstorm the schematic for a superweapon over afternoon tea, but still struggle to understand the simple concept of someone confessing their feelings to you.” 

“I’m not struggling to understand anything,” Hux snapped, a blush coloring his cheeks. “You’d be shocked too if the manchild who just stole your cat and who you tried to shoot four times started to throw tragic lines like ‘I’m lost to you’ around. It’s disorienting.” 

“What were you expecting to have had happened tonight?” Ren asked. “That you would walk in on me sacrificing Millicent in some Sith ritual and you would shoot me neatly six times in the chest? I told you, the only reason I took Millicent is because I needed the chance to talk to you.” 

“I know that,” Hux said. He sounded frustrated. “I’m just—trying to catch up with everything. That’s all.”

“With which parts?” Ren asked. 

Hux glared, and the blush coloring his cheeks deepened to a pretty crimson. “You know which parts.” 

Ren couldn’t help the mischievous smile that tugged the corners of his mouth up. Cocking his head in feigned confusion, he said, “I’m not sure I do. Maybe if you clarified, I could help you catch up.”

“I don’t need your help,” Hux said, crossing his arms.

“No?” Ren asked. “So you’re not confused or curious about anything?” 

Hux’s glare shifted to the floor. “No,” he said stubbornly. 

“Oh, good,” Ren said. “I was worried it was going to take half the night to explain the concept of emotions to you. But now I can see that that fear was grossly misplaced. I guess the only thing left is to hear your feelings on the subject.”

“What?” Hux asked, failing to hide his alarm. 

“Your feelings,” Ren said. “I want to know them.” 

Hux fidgeted. He still wasn’t meeting Ren’s eyes. “I don’t know what you mean.” 

“I want to know how you feel about me,” Ren clarified. “I just told you that I love you. Now I want to know what you think.”

Hux paused. His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to find a way out of answering directly. Finally, he said, “It should be… obvious.”

Ren sighed dramatically, a show of mock dismay. “Unfortunately, not all of us possess your brilliant intellect, Hux,” he said. “You’re going to have to do better than that.” 

Hux’s eyes turned to fire, and he brought his burning gaze up to Ren. Smiling, his nose upturned, he said, “I think that you’re a stubborn manchild with poor impulse control.” 

“Ah,” Ren said, “that’s better.” He took a step closer to Hux. “What else?”

Hux took a step back to counter Ren’s step forward, crossing the threshold into Ren’s dark bedroom. A shadow passed over his pale face. “I think that you jump to ridiculous conclusions and get jealous too easily.” 

Another step forward. “I don’t like it when people touch what’s mine,” Ren said. “What else?”

Stepping back, Hux said, “I think that you purposely do things to annoy me because you like to get a rise out of me.”

Ren nodded once in agreement. “You’re very beautiful when you’re angry,” he said. Taking another step forward, he asked, “What else?” 

Hux balled his hands into fists. “I think that you like to play games with me,” he said. This time he stood his ground.

“I do,” Ren admitted. He advanced until he was standing toe to toe to Hux. “Do you think I’m playing one right now?”

“Yes,” Hux said without hesitation. He raised his chin in the air and met Ren’s gaze defiantly. 

Ren stopped as if to appear to be considering Hux’s words. “You’ve said some very interesting things,” Ren said slowly. “But—you haven’t actually told me how you feel.”

Hux’s eyes dropped to Ren’s chest. “I told you,” he said. He sniffed, a haughty little gesture that made his nose wrinkle. “It’s obvious.” 

“Is it?” Ren asked. “Should I be looking for confirmation other than words?” 

Hux’s face scrunched up as he tried to work out the meaning behind Ren’s question. Ren saw the moment realization flashed in his eyes. But it was a moment too late. Ren was already pulling Hux into a tumultuous kiss, the force of it apparently enough to make Hux go weak at knees. Ren grunted as he hoisted Hux up, his lips still caught between his. Ren slipped his palms behind Hux’s thighs and lifted his feet off the ground, prompting Hux to wrap his legs around Ren’s waist as Ren backed him up against the wall. 

Keeping Hux pinned to the wall, Ren broke the kiss and pulled back to stare at him. His green eyes were bright, even in the dim of the room. His lips were pink and glossy, parted slightly to allow more air into his lungs. His breathing was coming faster than normal, his smaller chest pressing against Ren’s with each quick inhale. His hands were clutching the sides of Ren’s robes. 

Ren smiled. It wasn’t mocking or proud. Just a soft smile as he took in Hux, whose face promptly screwed up beneath the scrutiny. “What?” Hux asked. There was an edge to his voice.

Ren shook his head. “It’s nothing,” he said, dipping his head back down. “Just an observation.”

He brushed his lips against Hux's, and the hands at his sides tightened. 

‘It’s just that you speak your feeling better when you’re not using words,’ Ren thought, before he kissed Hux again.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! So sorry for the long delay on this! I've been traveling for the past two weeks and haven't had a lot of free time. But I'm back, so updates should be pretty regular again :)

Ren lifted Hux from the wall. Hux, lost to the frenzy of their kissing and the rhythm of their rocking, dutifully wrapped his arms and legs around Ren, squeezing. With jostling steps that pushed their bodies together with maddening frequency, Ren quickly carried Hux across the bedroom floor and deposited him on the bed. He landed with a graceless, little oomph. 

Ren placed a single knee on to the edge of the mattress and braced his upper body on his right hand, hovering above Hux. He indulged himself in the most innocent of pleasures and simply allowed himself to take Hux in, the way his body sprawled sinuously across his sheets, the way his green eyes flashed in warning and then promise and then in desire, the way his still damp hair fell in a boyish fringe over his eyes, the way his cheeks held in the rosy blush of arousal, the way his sleep shirt clung to his slim chest and rose and fell with each affected breath. Ren rubbed his thumb along the parted seam of Hux’s lips, mesmerized by the soft feel of them. 

Hux squirmed. Having reached the end of his patience, he said, “Well?”

“Well?” Ren echoed, watching the way Hux’s lips moved precisely to form words. 

Hux gave his best attempt at a glare. “Well, get on with it,” he said. “What are you waiting for? Permission? An invitation? Are you expecting a third party?”

Ren shook his head. He pushed his thumb up and brushed it across a sharp cheekbone, across a light smattering of freckles. “Just taking it in,” he said. 

Hux crossed his arms over his chest and asked, “Taking what in?” It was a show of feigned control. Flushed and disheveled as he was, Hux was about as threatening as a newborn porg. 

Reigning in a laugh, Ren said, “You.”

Hux’s blush deepened. “If you just wanted to stare at me,” he said, “you could have done that from across the bridge.”

“Yes,” Ren agreed. He dipped his head so his mouth was fitted over the pulse point in Hux’s neck. He pressed a soft kiss to the fluttering beat. “But I figured you might have one or two objections about me doing this to you on the bridge.”

Hux shivered. Straining his neck to allow Ren better access, he said, “There would be no objections. I would simply kill you.”

Ren huffed a laugh, a hot puff of hair that washed over the delicate, white column of Hux’s throat. “Exactly,” he said. “And then where would we be?”

“Getting actual work done,” Hux answered flatly. 

Ren hummed in noncommittal agreement, placing kisses down Hux’s throat, leaving a trail of glistening ruby colored marks in his wake. “I have more interesting tasks to occupy my time.”

“I,” Hux said, “am not a task.”

Ren propped himself up, his black hair falling in a tangled curtain around his face. “No,” he said, looking down at Hux. “You’re not a task. More like… an escapade? A crusade?”

Hux’s face twisted. “What are you trying to say?”

Ren grinned, brining his mouth close to Hux’s. “That wooing you is like trying to domesticate a wampa with a cheap meat stick.”

A soundless breath of laughter escaped Hux. Uncrossing his arms, he brought his hands up to cradle Ren’s face. Ren melted into the warm touch, letting his eyes slip briefly closed. When Hux spoke, he was very close. “What happened to your good lines?” he asked. “‘I’m lost to you?’ Why is it I’m now being compared to wampas and meat sticks?”

Ren opened his eyes, just enough to see those slits of vibrant green that could bring him to his knees with a single look staring back. “It’s hard to think,” he admitted, “when you’re under me like this.”

“Well, if that’s all—” Hux said. 

The world went spinning as Hux threw his right leg over Ren’s back and pushed suddenly against his chest. Ren fell onto his back as Hux quickly reversed their positions. With his knees braced on either sides of Ren’s thighs, Hux cocked his head and gave Ren a coy look. “Is this better?” he asked. 

Ren’s hand came up instinctually to wrap around Hux’s delicate waist, holding the smaller man steady above him. Their clothed erections rubbed deliciously together. Ren gave a slightly strained laugh. “I guess that depends on your definition of ‘better,’” he said. 

“I could do more,” Hux offered. His right hand splayed across Ren’s abdomen and slid slowly up Ren’s chest, over the ridges of muscle, until he found the top clasp of the tunic and snapped it free from its holdings. The dark fabric parted to reveal a strip of mole dotted skin. Hux slipped his hand inside, his palm hot against Ren’s collarbone. Heat spread through Ren’s body, as if from the focal point of Hux’s touch. He arched subtly into the contact. 

“I know.”

“You know?” Hux asked.

Ren shifted, unconsciously seeking more contact, his reverent hands riding up the smooth sides of Hux’s waist. “That you can do more.”

Hux considered this, an expression of vague amusement filling his features. “You don’t sound very happy about that.”

Ren brought his hands back to Hux’s waist and began to rub languid circles into his hips. “That’s because things don’t usually end well for me when I’m under you.” His thumb dipped beneath the waistband and lightly brushed the skin there. 

Hux touched his lips to Ren’s and mumbled against them. “That’s because you’re usually misbehaving.”

“Am not,” Ren mumbled back, though his answer was largely lost to the kiss Hux gave him. He let his eyes close and reveled in the simple delight of feeling Hux move against him. The smaller man’s body, still fully clothed in his sleepwear, fitted perfectly against Ren’s, their hips rocking together in sinuous motion. Hux brought his hands up and curled the front of Ren’s tunic in his fists. His tongue dipped into Ren’s mouth, and their tongues entwined in a silky caress. Ren felt a million points in his body shudder and break apart. 

“You stole my cat,” Hux said, breaking the kiss.

Ren, still reeling from the feel of it, said, “What?” His voice sounded airy and far away, dazed.

“My cat,” Hux whispered. “You stole her. You misbehaved.”

“I—had to,” Ren said. When he turned his head to the side, his nose brushed across Hux’s cheek, could feel Hux’s lashes flutter. He tightened his hold on Hux’s slight frame. “You wouldn’t talk to me.”

“You could have sent me a message,” Hux said. His breath tickled Ren’s ear. “But instead you decided to destroy a maintenance droid and wreck a training room. And when that didn’t work, you broke into my private rooms and stole my cat. You see? You misbehave.”

“But—I also have my redeeming qualities?” Ren said, nosing Hux’s forehead. 

Hux sat back up, straightening his spine while keeping his legs bent around Ren. Ren followed, pushing himself up on his elbows. Hux regarded him with twinkling eyes, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. “I suppose that there are parts of you that are… tolerable,” Hux said. Then, leaning in, he said, “And parts of you that are slightly more tolerable than the rest.”

A smile curved one end of Ren’s mouth up. “Any parts in particular?” he asked. 

Hux patted Ren’s cheek, demeaningly. “So cheeky,” he said. Ren brought his hand up to cover Hux’s hand with his own, turning the light slapping into a gentle caress. Hux’s eyes softened ever so slightly as Ren kissed the palm of his hand, just once. “Your mouth can be tolerable… at times,” he said. “When you’re not using it for talking.”

“Is that a suggestion?” Ren asked, sitting up further, canting his hips so Hux slid lower against him. He encircled Hux’s waist in his arms, fitting him snug against his chest, once again taken away by how right it felt to have Hux there. “Or are you just leading me on?”

“You should hurry up and find out,” Hux said. “Because if you don’t do something soon, I will.”

Hux leaned back and gripped the hem of his shirt with his hands. Bony fingers and slender wrists worked in tandem to pull the garment off, revealing the smooth expanse of Hux’s chest, pale and lithe, begging to be marked by Ren’s mouth. Hux flicked the grey sleep shirt over the edge of the bed and raised a brow, as if to ask: well?

Ren’s hands shot up to his own tunic, half ripping the clasps off in his haste to undress. He pulled his tunic off and threw it across the room without much consideration, much more interested in the amusement flickering in Hux’s eyes. Bare chested, he surged for Hux and pulled him in like a drowning man reaching for a raft. Their bodies collided in an explosion of warmth, skin heating against skin. Everything melted away as Ren pushed Hux into the sheets beneath the force of his soft kisses alone.

Ren eased Hux onto his back, not breaking the rhythm of their kissing for even a moment. Hux’s arms were wound around Ren, one hand fisted into his hair, the other curling around the nape of his neck. His legs slid across the sheets sinuously, spreading to allow Ren to fit between them, who did, settling his whole weight into the waiting cradle of Hux’s body. They gasped quietly into each other’s mouths when their cocks rubbed together, the clothing still separating them increasing the friction.

And the frustration. 

Ren sat up on his haunches, breath ragged. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of Hux’s sleep pants and tugged, not exactly gentle in this endeavor. He heard Hux mutter 'brute' under his breath, but Ren didn’t care. Not when Hux’s lithe legs were being slowly revealed. He scooted backwards, quickly working the sleep pants over the swell of Hux’s ass and down his thighs, past his knees, and, finally, off his feet. He dropped the bundle of fabric to the floor. Wrapping his hands around Hux’s ankles, Ren slid his hands up the lengths of Hux’s legs, feeling goosebumps raise in response to his touch. 

When he reached the barrier of Hux’s boxers, he stopped. Flicking his eyes up to Hux, who was watching him beneath heavy lidded eyes, Ren pulled the boxers down. Hux’s cock sprung free, heavy and leaking, but Ren kept his eyes locked on Hux’s face, watching for each tiny tremor. 

Voice roughened from his labored breathing, Hux said, “Seems like you’re the one leading me on now. Is this what it feels like?”

“If you mean frustrating, maddening and torturous,” Ren said, “then, yes—this is exactly what it feels like to be with you.”

“But I have my redeeming qualities?” Hux said, a knowing grin spreading across his face.

“Should we see if patience is one of them?” Ren asked, lowering his head so his mouth hovered no more than three inches away from the tip of Hux’s cock. He blew a soft gust of hot air over the flushed head. Hux shuddered in Ren’s hands, but otherwise remained composed.

“I think,” Hux said, “that this will be more of a test of your patience than mine by the end of this encounter.”

“And how do you figure that?” Ren asked. Peaking his tongue out, he dipped the moist tip of it into the slit of Hux’s cock. Hux twisted his hands into the sheets, a sweet noise breaking from his chest. His heels dug into the mattress, fighting for control. 

Collecting himself with some obvious effort, Hux said, “I don’t beg. And you throw tantrums when you don’t get what you want. It’s not a difficult leap to make.”

“But who says I want to make you beg?” Ren asked. He circled the base of Hux’s cock with his fingers and brought the appendage to his lips. Locking eyes with a pair of familiar, stubborn green ones, he said, “I’m going to ruin you.”


End file.
